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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 






THE TRUE PRINCESS, 










FAIRY TALES 


HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 

II 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLORS 


NEW YORK 

GILBERT H. McKIBBIN 

MDCCCXCIX 


TWO COPIES RECEIVED, 

Library of Congress 
Office 0 f the 

JAN 271900 



51945 

Copyright, 1899, 
By G. H. McKlBBIN 



ScCCND COr'/, 


Printed by tJie Manhattan Press f 
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PAGE 

A True Princess, 9 

The Old Street Lamp, 11 

The Swineherd, 22 

The Shepherdess and the Sweep, 30 

The Little Match Girl 38 

The Tinder-Box, 43 

Tiiumbelina, 56 

The Storks, . 74 

The Brave Tin Soldier, 83 

Ole Luk-Oie, 91 

The Ugly D<uckling, 110 

Little Claus and Big Claus, 122 

The Little Mermaid, 135 

The Wild Swans, . 151 

The Snow Queen, 165 

The Angel, 189 








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’i 



ANDERSEN’S TALES 


A TRUE PRINCESS. 

There was once upon a time a Prince who 
wanted to marry a Princess, but she must be a true 
Princess. So he travelled through the whole 
world to find one, but there was always something 
against each. There were plenty of Princesses, 
but he could not find out if they were true Prin- 
cesses. In every case there was some little defect, 
which showed the genuine article was not yet 
found. So he came home again in very low spirits, 
for he had wanted very much to have a true Prin- 
cess. One night there was a dreadful storm; it 
thundered and lightened and the rain streamed 
down in torrents! It was fearful! There was a 
knocking heard at the Palace gate, and the old 
King went to open it. 

There stood a Princess outside the gate; but oh, 
in what a sad plight she was from the rain and the 
storm ! The water was running down from her 
hair and her dress into the points of her shoes and 


10 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


out at the heels again. And yet she said she was 
a true l^rincess ^ 

“ Well, we shall soon find that! ’’ thought the old 
Queen. But she said nothing, and went into the 
sleeping-room, took off all the bed-clothes, and laid 
a pea on the bottom of the bed. Then she put 
twenty mattresses on top of the pea, and twenty 
eider-down quilts on the top of the mattresses. 
And this was the bed in which the Princess was to 
sleep. 

The next morning she was asked how she had 
slept. 

“ Oh, very badly 1 ” said the Princess. “ I scarcely 
closed my eyes all night! I am sure I don’t know 
what was in the bed. I lay on something so hard 
that my whole body is black and blue. It is dread- 
ful! ” 

Now they perceived that she was a true Princess, 
because she had felt the pea through the twenty 
mattresses and the twenty eider-down quilts. 

No one but a true Princess could be so sensitive. 

So the Prince married her, for now he knew that 
at last he had got hold of a true Princess. And the 
pea was put into the Eoyal Museum, where it is 
still to be seen if no one has stolen it. 

Now this is a true story. 


THE OLD STREET LAMP. 


Did you ever hear the story of the Old Street 
Lamp? It is not a very funny story, but at any 
rate, it may be worth hearing for once. It was 
such an honest Old Street Lamp, and for very many 
years it had faithfully done its duty, but now it was 
about to retire. This evening it hung for the last 
time on its pole, and gave light to the street. It 
felt as an old ballet-girl might feel who is making 
her last appearance on the stage, and knows that 
to-morrow she will be forgotten in her garret. 

The Lamp was in great dread of the morrow, for 
it knew that it was to be taken for the first time to 
the Town Hall to he inspected by the six-and-thirty 
town councillors, who were to decide whether it 
was fit for further service. They would determine 
whether it should be sent to illuminate one of the 
bridges, or out in the country to a factory, or per- 
haps it would be despatched direct to some iron- 
foundry to be melted down. In this case anything 
might be made of it, but it was greatly exercised 
by the question whether it would remember, in its 
new state, that it had once been a Street Lamp. 
Whatever happened, it would be separated from the 
watchman and his wife, and it had come to regard 


12 


ANDERSEN^ 8 TALES, 


itself as one of the family. When it first became a 
Street Lamp, the watchman — then young and vig- 
orous — was first appointed to his post. Yes, it waL 
now a long time ago ! 

The wife was rather proud at that time. Only 
in the evening, when she passed the Lamp, did she 
deign to look at it ; in the daytime, never. But of 
recent years, when all three, the watchman, his 
wife, and the Lamp, had grown old together, the 
wife had assisted in cleaning and trimming it; and 
an honest pair they were, for they had never 
cheated it of a single drop of oil. 

It was its last evening in the street, and to-mor- 
row it was to be taken to the Town Hall. These 
reflections filled the Lamp with very sombre 
thoughts, so you can easily guess what kind of 
light it gave. But it thought, besides, of many 
other things. It had seen so much in its time, had 
shone on so many events. It knew, perhaps, more 
than the six-and-thirty councillors put together; 
but it did not say so, for it was an honest old 
Lamp, and would not hurt the feelings of anybody, 
and least of all those of the authorities. 

Yes, it remembered many things, and now and 
then its flame would suddenly flash up — just as if 
the Lamp felt that it, too, would be remembered. 
“ There was that handsome young man, ” it thought ; 
“many years ago he came with a letter; it was 
written on rose-colored paper — very dainty it was, 
with a gilt edge ; the writing was elegant — it was 
the handwriting of a lady. He read it twice and 











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14 


ANDERSEN ^8 TALES. 


kissed it, and he turned his eyes to me and said : ‘ I 
am the happiest of men ! ’ Yes, only he and I knew 
what was written in that first letter from his true 
love. 

“ I remember also another pair of eyes ; it is won- 
derful how one’s thoughts fly from one thing to an- 
other. Here, in this street, there was once a grand 
funeral. A beautiful young lady lay in a coffin on 
a velvet-covered bier; there were a great number 
of flowers and wreaths, and so many torches were 
burning that I was quite overpowered. The pave- 
ment was crowded with people who followed in the 
procession ; but when the torches were gone, and I 
began to look round, one person was still standing 
against the post, weeping. I shall never forget the 
mournful eyes that looked up to me.” 

Many such thoughts passed through the mind of 
the Old Street Lamp, which was shining to-night 
for the last time. 

The sentry when relieved from his post knows at 
least who is to be his successor, and may whisper a 
few words to him ; but the Lamp did not know this, 
although it might have given a hint or two concern- 
ing rain or rough weather, together with some 
information as to how far the moonshine lit up 
the pavement, and from what side the wind was 
blowing. 

In the gutter stood three persons, who introduced 
themselves to the Lamp, thinking that it could ap- 
point its own successor. The first was a herring’s 
head that could shine in the dark. There would be 


THE OLD STREET LAMP. 


15 


a great saving of oil, it thought, if it were put at 
the top of the lamp-post. The second was a piece 
of rotten wood, which also gleamed in the dark — ■ 
“More brightly, at any rate, than a haddock,” it 
said to itself. Moreover, it was the last piece of a 
tree that had once been the glory of the forest. 
The third was a glow-worm. Whence it had come 
the Lamp could not make out, but the worm was 
there, and it shone. Both the rotten wood and the 
herring’s head declared, how^ever, most solemnly 
that the glow-worm only gave light at certain 
times, and that it had therefore no right to take 
part in the competition. 

The Old Lamp remarked that none of them shone 
sufficiently to be a Street Lamp ; but they refused 
to believe this, and when they heard that the Lamp 
itself could not appoint its successor, they declared 
that they were very glad to hear it, for in their 
opinion it was too worn-out to be able to make a 
proper choice. 

At this moment the wind came rushing round the 
corner. It whistled through the Old Lamp, saying : 
“ What do I hear? Are you going away to-mor- 
row? Is it the last time that I shall meet you here? 
Weir then I must make you a present. I will blow 
into your brain-box in such a way that you will 
not only remember clearly and distinctly what you 
have heard and seen, but you will become so clear- 
sighted as to see everything that is told or read 
about in your presence.” 

“Well, that is really a very fine gift,” said the 


16 


AmEJRSEN^S TALES. 


Old Lamp. ‘‘ Many thanks ! I only hope I am not 
going to be melted down.” 

“That will not happen yet,” said the wind, “and 
now I will blow memory into you also. If you re- 
ceive many presents like this you will be able to 
pass your old age very pleasantly.” 

“I only hope I shall not be melted down,” said 
the Lamp; “but could you in that case still enable 
me to retain my memor}^? ” 

“Do be reasonable. Old Lamp,” said the wind, 
and flew away. At tho same moment the moon 
glided forth from behind the clouds. “What do 
you propose to give? ” said the wind. 

“I cannot give anything,” said the moon; “I am 
on the wane. Besides, the lamps have never shone 
on my account; on the contrary, I have been shin- 
ing for the benefit of the lamps.” And she disap- 
peared behind the clouds, so as to avoid being trou- 
bled again. 

Just then a drop of water fell upon the Lamp, as 
if from the roof; but the drop explained that it 
came from the gray clouds, and was also a gift, 
perhaps the best of all. “I shall penetrate you, so 
that you will have the power of turning into rust 
in a single night, and to crumble into dust, if you 
wish it.” This, the Lamp thought, was a shabby 
present, and the wind thought so too, and blew as 
loudly as he could: “Is there nothing better? ” 

Just then a brilliant shooting-star fell, leaving a 
bright gleaming streak in its wake. “ What was 
that?” cried the herring’s head. “Did not a star 


THE OLD STREET LAME, 


17 


fall? I really think it went into the Lamp. Well, 
if such high-born persons apply for this post, we 
may just as well go home and go to bed.” And 
this they did, all three. 

But the Old Lamp shed a marvellously strong 
light around. “That was indeed a glorious gift! 
Those bright stars, which I have always admired, 
which shine more brilliantly than I have ever shone, 
although I have tried with all my might — they have 
noticed me, the poor Old Lamp. They have sent 
me a gift that will enable all those whom I love to 
see everything that I can remember and can see 
quite clearly ; and in this lies the truest pleasure, 
for joy that we cannot share with others is only 
half a joy.” 

“That is a very excellent sentiment,” said the 
wind; “but perhaps you do not know that wax- 
lights are necessary. If a wax-light be not lit up 
within you, nobody will be any the better for your 
faculties — you will not enable others to see any- 
thing. The stars have not thought of this; they 
think that everything that shines must at least 
have a wax-light inside. But now I am tired,” 
said the wind; “I will go to rest.” So it went 
down. 

“Wax-lights, indeed!” exclaimed the Lamp. 
“I have never had them yet, nor am I likely to get 
them now. I only hope I shall not be melted 
down ! ” 

The next day — well, we had better pass over the 
next dav — but the next evening, the Lamp lay in a 
“2 


18 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


grandfather’s chair. And where? Why, at the 
old watchman’s house! 

He had asked as a favor of the thirty-six town 
councillors that he might be allowed to keep the 
Old Lamp in consideration of his long and faithful 
service. He himself, he said, had first lit it on the 
day when he was appointed watchman four-and- 
twenty years ago. He looked upon it as his child, 
for he had no other ; so they gave him the Lamp ; 
and now it was lying in the grandfather’s chair, 
close by the stove. It seemed as if it had grown 
bigger, for it occupied nearly the whole of the chair. 
As the old people sat down to supper, they looked 
kindly at the Lamp, to which they would willingly 
have granted a place at their table. 

True, it was only in a cellar that they lived, two 
yards below the street, and one was obliged to go 
through a stone-paved passage to get into the room ; 
but it was warm and comfortable when one got 
there, for strips of list had been nailed on to the 
door. It was all very trim and clean; curtains 
were hung round the bedstead and above the small 
windows, and on the window-sill stood two remark- 
able flower-pots. Christian, the sailor, had brought 
them home from the East or West Indies; they 
were made of clay, and represented two elephants, 
the backs of which were missing, but they were 
filled with earth. In one of them some fine onions 
were growing — that was the old people’s vegetable- 
garden ; in the other stood a large geranium in full 
bloom — this was their flower-garden. On the wall 


THE OLD STREET LAMP, 


19 


hung a large colored print, representing the Con- 
gress of Vienna, showing all the kings and ena- 
perors at once ; a clock from Bornholm, with heavy 
leaden weights, went tic! tac! tic! tac! — it always 
went too fast, but this was better, said the old peo- 
ple, than if it were to be too slow. 

They were eating their supper, and the Old Street 
Lamp was lying in the grandfather’s chair, close to 
the warm stove. It seemed to the Lamp as if the 
whole world were turned upside down. But when 
the old watchman looked at it, and spoke of all that it 
had gone through, in storm and rain, in the bright, 
short summer nights, or through drifting snow, 
when it was nice to get into the shelter of the cellar, 
then everything seemed all right to the Old Lamp! 
It saw everything as if it still existed. Yes, the 
wind had certainly kindled a bright light within it. 

The old people were very industrious and active; 
not a single hour was wasted. On Sunday after- 
noon a book of some kind was brought out, gener- 
ally a book of travels, and the old man would read 
aloud about Africa, with its great forests, in which 
elephants were running about quite wild. The old 
woman would listen, and would then go over and 
look at the clay elephants which served as flower- 
pots. ‘‘I can almost imagine it,” she said. But 
the Lamp greatly wished that a wax-taper could be 
lit up within it, for the old lady would then have 
been able to see everything just as the Lamp itself 
saw it — the tall trees with their branches closely 
intertwined, the naked negroes on horseback, and 


20 


AKDERSEN^S TALES, 


whole herds of elephants treading down bamboos 
and bushes with their broad feet. 

“ What is the use of all my good qualities when 
there isno wax candle ? ” sighed the Lamp. ‘‘They 
have only oil and tallow candles, and that is not 
much.” 

One day a parcel of wax-candle ends was brought 
down into the cellar. The larger pieces were burnt ; 
and the smaller ones the old woman used to wax 
her thread when she was sewing. There were 
plenty of wax candles now, hut it never occurred to 
any one to put a little piece in the Lamp. “ Here 
I stand with all my rare qualities,” said the Lamp; 
“I have everything within me, but I cannot share 
it with others. They do not know that I can 
change these white walls into the most beautiful 
wall-paper, that I can transform them into magnif- 
icent forests, or to anything else that they may wish 
— they do not know that.” The Lamp, however, 
neat and polished, was standing in a corner where 
it caught the eyes of everybody. Strangers might 
say it was a bit of rubbish ; but the old folk took 
no notice, for they loved the Street Lamp. 

One day — it was the watchman’s birthday — the 
old woman went to the Lamp and said, smiling: “I 
will make an illumination for him.” The old Lamp 
rattled, for it thought that at last the light would 
be lit; but oil was put into it, and not a wax 
taper. It burnt the whole evening; but it knew 
that the gift of the stars, the best gift of all, was a 
hidden treasure in this life. Then it dreamed — for 


THE OLD STREET LAMP. 


21 


when one possesses such faculties it is easy to dream 
— that the old people were dead, and that it was 
taken to an iron-foundry to be recast. It was just 
as much alarmed as when it was taken to the Town 
Hall to be examined by the six-and-thirty council- 
lors; but although it had the power of crumbling 
to rust and dust when it wished to, it did not make 
use of this gift. So it went into the furnace, and 
was turned into as beautiful a candlestick as any 
one could wish to put a wax-light into. It had the 
shape of an angel holding a bouquet; in the middle 
of the bouquet the wax candle was placed, and the 
candlestick was put on a green writing-table. It 
was a pleasant, comfortable room ; there were many 
books, and beautiful pictures hung on the walls ; it 
was the room of a poet. Everything that he thought 
and wrote appeared before him ; the room was trans- 
formed into vast, dark forests, or into sunny mead- 
ows, where the stork strutted about, or again into 
the deck of a ship rolling in the foaming sea. 

‘‘ What qualities I possess ! ” said the Lamp, when 
it awoke. “I could almost wish to be melted down 
— but no, that must not be, so long as the old peo- 
ple live ; they love me for my own sake, I am as 
good as a child to them, they have polished me and 
filled me with oil, and I am just as well off as the 
picture of the Congress, which is certainly some- 
thing very aristocratic.” 

And from that time forth it enjoyed more inward 
peace ; and this the dear Old Street Lamp well de- 
served. 


THE SWINEHEED. 

There was once a poor Prince, who possessed 
a very small kingdom. It was, however, large 
enough to marry upon, and he greatly wished to 
find a wife. Now, it was certainly somewhat bold 
of him to say to the Emperor’s daughter: “Will 
you have me? ” but he did venture it, for his name 
was famous far and wide. There were hundreds of 
Princesses who would have said “Thank you,” into 
the bargain, but we shall see what she said. 

On the grave of the Prince’s father grew a rose- 
tree. Oh, what a beautiful rose-tree it was! It 
only bloomed once every five years, and it bore but 
a single rose ; but what a rose 1 Its scent was so 
sweet that whoever smelt it forgot all sorrow and 
trouble. 

The Prince also possessed a nightingale that could 
sing as if all the most beautiful melodies were col- 
lected in its little throat. Both the rose and the 
nightingale the Princess was to have ; so they were 
put into large silver boxes and sent to her. The 
Emperor ordered the presents to be taken into the 
large hall where the Princess was playing at “visit- 
ing” with her maids-of -honor. They never did 


THE SWINEHERD, 


23 


anything else. When she saw the large boxes con- 
taining the presents the Princess clapped her hands 
with joy. 

“I hope it is a little pussy-cat,” she said; but out 
came the beautiful rose. 

“Oh, how wonderfully it is made!” said all the 
maids-of-honor. “It is more than nice — it is 
charming.” 

But the Princess touched it, and she almost began 
to cry. “ Fie, Papa ! ” she said ; “ it is not artificial 
— it is only a natural rose 1 ” 

“Fie! ” said all the maids-of-honor; “it is only a 
natural rose ! ” 

“Let us first see what is in the other box before 
we get angry,” said the Emperor; and out came the 
nightingale. It sang so sweetly that it was impossi- 
ble at the moment to say anything in dispraise of it. 

Superhe ! charmant!^'^ said the maids-of-honor, 
for they all spoke French, each worse than the 
other. 

“How that bird reminds me of the late Em- 
peror’s musical-box,” said an old cavalier. “It has 
exactly the same tone, and the same expression.” 

“Yes,” said the Emperor, and he wept like a 
little child. 

“I should scarcely think that it is a real bird,” 
said the Princess. 

“Oh, yes; it is a real bird,” said those who had 
brought it. 

“Then let the bird fly away,” said the Princess; 
but she refused to allow the Prince to call. 


24 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


The Prince, however, was not to be frightened; 
he smeared his face with brown and black dye, 
pressed his cap down over his face, and knocked at 
the door. “ Good day. Emperor,” he said ; ‘‘ conld I 
not get a situation here in the palace? ” 

“ Well, there are so many who ask for an appoint- 
ment,” said the Emperor; ‘‘but let me see; I just 
need a person to look after the pigs, for we have a 
great many of them.” 

So the Prince was employed as Imperial swine- 
herd. He received a poor little room down by the 
pig-sty, and there he had to stay. But the whole 
day long he sat and worked, and by the evening he 
had made a nice little pot with tiny bells all around 
it, so that when the pot boiled the bells rang out 
merrily, and played the old tune : 

Oh, my darling Augustine ! 

All is lost, lost, lost ! ” 

But the most peculiar thing was, that by holding 
one’s fingers in the steam of the pot, one could 
smell what kind of meals were being prepared in 
each kitchen in the town. You see, it was quite a 
different thing from the rose. 

Now, the Princess was out walking with all her 
maids-of-honor, and when she heard the tune she 
stopped at once, and looked greatly pleased, for she, 
too, could play “Oh, my darling Augustine.” This 
was the only tune that she could play on the piano, 
but then she played it with only one finger. 

“Why, that is the tune I play,” she exclaimed; 






26 


ANDEBSEN^S TALES, 


‘‘he must be a well-educated swineherd. Listen! 
you must go in and ask him what the price of that 
instrument is.” 

So one of the maids-of -honor had to go in, but 
she first put on a pair of slippers. 

“What do you want for the pot?” asked the 
maid-of-honor. 

“I want ten kisses from the Princess,” said the 
swineherd. 

“Goodness gracious!” exclaimed the maid-of- 
honor. 

“I cannot make it cheaper,” said the swineherd. 

“ Well, what does he say? ” asked the Princess. 

“I really can’t repeat it, ’’said the maid-of honor; 
“it is too horrible.” 

“Well, you can whisper it.” So the lady whis- 
pered it. 

“He is very rude, ’’said the Princess; and walked 
away. But when she had gone a little way, the 
bells began to ring again, very sweetly : 

Oh, my darling Augustine ! 

All is lost, lost, lost ! 

“Listen,” said the Princess: “ask him if he will 
take ten kisses from my maids-of-honor.” 

“No, thank you, ’’said the swineherd; “ten kisses 
from the Princess, or I keep the pot.” 

“Oh, how tiresome!” said the Princess; “well, 
you must stand round me so that nobody can see 
it.” And the maids-of-honor stood round her, the 
swineherd received the ten kisses, and the Princess 


THE SWINEHERD. 


27 


got the pot. Then there was great rejoicing ! In 
the evening, and the whole day long, the pot was 
kept boiling; there was not a kitchen in the whole 
town of which they did not know what it had 
cooked, at the chamberlain’s as well as at the shoe- 
maker’s. The maids-of-honor danced and clapped 
their hands. 

“We know who is going to have sweet soup and 
pancakes; we know who is going to have gruel and 
cutlets.” 

“ How very interesting, very interesting indeed ! ” 
said the lady superintendent. 

“Yes, but you must keep quiet,” said the Prin- 
cess, “for I am the Emperor’s daughter.” “Quite 
so ! ” said every one. 

The swineherd — that is to say, the Prince, al- 
though so far as thqy knew, he was only an ordi- 
nary swineherd — did not let a day go past without 
making something. One day he made a rattle. 
When he swung it round it pla^^ed all the waltzes, 
schottisches, and polkas that had been composed 
since the creation of the world. 

“This is superb,” said the Princess, as she went 
past ; “ I have never heard such a beautiful compo- 
sition before. Go in and ask him what that instru- 
ment costs; but I won’t kiss him.” 

“He wants a hundred kisses from the Princess,” 
said the maid-of -honor, who went in to ask him. 

“He must be mad!” exclaimed the Princess, and 
went off; but when she had gone a little way, she 
stopped. “One must encourage art,” she said. “I 


28 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


am the Emperor’s daughter. Tell him he shall 
have ten kisses, as yesterday ; the rest he can have 
from my maids-of-honor.” 

“ Oh, but we would rather not ! ” said the maids- 
of-honor. 

“That is all nonsense,” said the Princess; “if I 
can kiss, you can kiss too. You just remember 
that I give you board and wages.” So the maid-of- 
honor had to go down to the swineherd again. 

“A hundred kisses from the Princess,” said he, 
“or each shall keep his own.” 

“Stand round,” she said, and all the maids-of 
honor stood round while he kissed the Princess. 

“ What is that crowd down by the pig-sty? ” said 
the Emperor, who had stepped on to the balcony. 
He rubbed his eyes and put his spectacles on. 
“ Yes, it is the maids-of-honor in mischief again. I 
must see what they are doing.” So he pulled his 
slippers up behind, for they were shoes which he 
had trodden down. Mercy! how he hurried. When 
he came into the yard he walked very softly, and 
the maids-of-honor were so busy in counting the 
kisses, so that everything should be fair, and that 
the swineherd should not get too many, and yet not 
too few, that they did not notice the Emperor. He 
stood on tiptoe. “ What 1 ” said he, when he saw 
that the swineherd and the Princess were kissing 
each other ; and he hit them on the head with his 
slipper, just as the swineherd received his eighty- 
sixth kiss. “ Be off with you 1 ” cried the Emperor, 
for he was angry, and both the Princess and the 


THE SWINEHERD. 


29 


swineherd were expelled from the empire. There 
she stood crying, and the swineherd scolded her, 
while the rain poured in torrents. “ Oh ! miserable 
wretch that I am,” said the Princess; ‘‘if I had 
only taken the handsome Prince. Oh ! how un- 
happy I am.” 

But the swineherd went behind a tree, washed 
tbe black and brown dye from his face, threw away 
the shabby clothes, and came forward in princely 
attire, so handsome that the Princess had to bow to 
him. “I have learned to despise you,” said he. 
“You would not have an honest prince, you did not 
value the rose and the nightingale, but you kissed 
a swineherd for a mere plaything; now you can 
do what you like.” And so he went back into his 
kingdom, locked the door, and fastened the bolt. 
And she might stand outside and sing : 

Oh, my darling Augustine ! 

All is lost, lost, lost ! ” 


THE SHEPHEEDESS AND THE CHIMNEY 
SWEEP. 


Have you ever seen a very old wooden cupboard, 
quite black with age, and carved with arabesques 
and foliage? Just such a cupboard stood in the 
parlor ; it was a legacy from Grandmother, and it 
was carved from the top to bottom with roses and 
tulips. There were the most wonderful flourishes 
upon it, and between these projected little stags’ 
heads. But in the middle of the cupboard there 
was carved the whole flgure of a man. He was 
very funny to look at, for he was grinning— you 
could not call it laughing — and he had a goat’s legs, 
little horns on his forehead, and a long beard. The 
little children in the room always called him Major- 
and-Lieutenant-General- War-Commander-Sergeant 
Billy-goat-legs; this was a very difficult name to 
pronounce, and there are not many who receive this 
title, but it was remarkable that he had been carved 
out at all. There he sat, always looking at the 
table under the mirror, upon which stood a pretty 
little Shepherdess made of porcelain. Her shoes 
were gilded, her skirt daintily trimmed at the side 
with a red bow, she wore a golden hat, and carried 
a shepherd’s crook; she was indeed quite lovely! 


SHEPHERDESS AND CHIMNEY-SWEEP. 31 


Close beside her stood a little Chimney-Sweep, as 
black as a coal, but also made of porcelain. He 
was, however, just as clean and neat as any one else, 
for he only represented a chimney-sweep: the mod- 
eller might just as well have made him a prince. 

There he stood with his ladder, looking very nice, 
with his face as white and pink as a girl’s. This 
was really a fault, for he ought to have been just 
a little black. He was standing very close to the 
Shepherdess; they had been placed there, had be- 
come engaged to one another, and suited each other 
very well, for they were both young, both were made 
of the same porcelain, and both were equally brittle. 

Close to them stood another figure, which was 
three times as big as they — an old Chinaman, who 
could nod his head. He also was made of porce- 
lain, and pretended to be the grandfather of the lit- 
tle Shepherdess, but he could not prove it. He 
declared that he had authority over her, and he 
therefore nodded to the Major-and-Lieutenant- 
General- War-Commander Sergeant Billy-goat-legs, 
who was proposing to the little Shepherdess. 

“There is a husband for you,” said the old China- 
man, “a husband who, I believe, is made of ma- 
hogany, and who can make you Mrs. Major-and- 
Lieutenant - General - War - Commander - Sergeant 
Billy-goat-legs. He possesses a whole cupboard 
full of silver plate, besides what he has in the secret 
drawers.” 

“Oh, I do not want to get into that dark cup- 
board,” said the little Shepherdess; “I have heard 


32 ANDEBSEN^S TALES. 

them say that he has eleven porcelain wives in 
there! ” 

“Then you will be number twelve,’’ answered the 
Chinaman ; “ to-night, when the old cupboard begins 
to creak, you shall get married, as true as I am a 
Chinaman,” and he nodded his head, and fell asleep. 

But the little Shepherdess wept, and looked at 
her heart’s beloved, the porcelain Chimney-Sweep. 

“I beg of you,” said she, “to take me with you 
out into the wide world, for we cannot remain here.” 

“I will do whatever you like,” said the little 
Chimney-Sweep; “let us go at once; I think I can 
maintain you by following my profession ! ” 

“I wish we were safely down from the table,” 
she said ; “ I shall never be happy until we are out 
in the wide world.” 

But he comforted her, and showed her where to 
put her little foot on the carved edge and gilt foli- 
age of the table-leg. Then he brought his ladder to 
help her, and so they got down on to the floor. But 
when they looked toward the old cupboard, there 
was a fearful commotion ; all the little carved stags 
stretched forth and craned their necks to and fro ; 
Major - and - Lieutenant-General- War-Commander- 
Sergeant Billy-goat-legs sprang high in the air, and 
cried out to the old Chinaman : “ They are running 
away 1 they are running away ! ” This frightened 
them, so they jumped hurriedly up into the drawer. 

Here lay three or four packs of cards, but they 
were not complete, and there was also a little 
puppet-show, which was fixed up as well as it could 




34 


ANDERSEN ^8 TALES. 


be. There was a performance at the theatre, and 
all the Queens — diamonds, hearts, clubs, and spades 
— were sitting in the front row fanning themselves 
with tulips, while behind them stood the Knaves, 
with heads both above and below, as is usual with 
playing-cards. The play was about two people who 
were crossed in love, and the little Shepherdess 
cried, because it was just like her own story. 

“Oh, I cannot bear this,” said she; “I must get 
out of the drawer!” But when they reached the 
floor again, and looked up at the table, the old 
Chinaman was awake, and rocking his whole body 
to and fro, for his legs were only one big lump. 
“Now the old Chinaman is coming,” cried the little 
Shepherdess, and she fell down on her little porce- 
lain knees, so frightened was she. 

“I have an idea,” said the Chimney-Sweep; “let 
us creep down into the big potpourri-vase, which 
stands over in the corner ; there we can lie on roses 
and lavender, and when he comes we can throw salt 
in his eyes.” 

“That is of no use,” she said; “besides, the old 
Chinaman and the potpourri-vase were once en- 
gaged, and some little affection always remains 
when people have occupied that relation to one an- 
other. No, there is nothing for us to do but to go 
out into the wide world ! ” 

“Have you really courage to go with me out 
into the wide world? ” asked the Chimney-Sweep. 
“ Have you considered how wide the world is, and 
that we can never come back here again? ” 


SHEPHERDESS AND CHIMNEY-SWEEP. 35 


‘‘I have,” said she. 

The Chimney-Sweep looked at her very earnestly, 
and said : “ My way lies through the chimney ; if 
you really have courage to creep with me through 
the stove and up through the pipe, we shall get up 
into the chimney. Then I shall know how to find 
my way ; we can mount so high that they cannot 
catch us, and at the very top there is a hole leading 
into the wide world.” 

And he led her to the stove door. 

“It looks very black there,” she said; but she 
went with him through the stove and the pipe, al- 
though it was pitch dark. 

“Now we are in the chimney,” he said, “and 
look ! look ! up above a beautiful star is shining ! ” 

It was a real star in the sky, shining straight 
down to them as if it wanted to show them their 
way. They clambered and scrambled up, and a 
terribly long way it was ; but he lifted her up and 
helped her, holding her hand, and showing her the 
best places to put her little porcelain feet ; and at 
last they reached the edge of the chimney. There 
they sat down, for they were very tired, and no 
wonder. 

The sky, with all its stars, was high above them, 
and the roofs of the town were far below. They 
could see a long way around, far out into the world. 
The poor little Shepherdess had never dreamed that 
it would be like this, and she laid her little head on 
the shoulder of the Chimney-Sweep and wept so 
that the gold ran off her belt. “ It is far too much,” 


36 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES, 


she said; “I cannot bear it; the world is too large. 
If only I were back again on the little table under 
the mirror! I shall never feel happy until I am 
there again. Now that I have followed you out 
into the wide world, you must take me home again, 
if you really love me.” 

The Chimney-Sweep tried to encourage her, re- 
minding her of the old Chinaman and Major-and- 
Lieutenant - General - War - Commander - Sergeant 
Billy-goat-legs; but she sobbed so bitterly, and 
kissed her little Chimney-Sweep so tenderly, that 
he could not help yielding to her, though he knew 
it was foolish. 

So they clambered down again through the chim- 
ney with great difficulty, crept through the pipe, 
which was not at all pleasant, and at last found 
themselves in the dark stove. Here they listened 
behind the door, to find out what was going on in 
the room. It was very quiet, so they peeped in. 
Alas! there in the middle of the floor lay the old 
Chinaman ! He had fallen down from the table in 
pursuing them, and he lay there broken into three 
pieces. The back had broken off in one piece, and 
the head had rolled over into the corner; but 
Major - and - Lieutenant-General-War-Commander- 
Sergeant Billy-goat-legs stood in his usual place, 
lost in thought. 

“This is dreadful,” said the little Shepherdess; 
“ old grandfather is broken to pieces, and it is our 
fault. I shall never survive it.” and she wrung 
her tiny little hands. 

3 


SHEPHERDESS AND CHIMNEY-SWEEP. 37 


“He can still be mended,” said the Chimney' 
Sweep, “he can easily be mended, so pray calm 
yourself. When they have glued his back to- 
gether, and given him a good rivet in his head, he 
will be as good as new again, and will yet live to 
tell us many disagreeable things.” 

“Do you think so?” she said; and they crept up 
on to the table where they had been standing be- 
fore. 

“We did not get very far,” said the Chimney- 
Sweep; “we might have saved ourselves all that 
trouble.” 

“If only grandfather were riveted!” said the 
Shepherdess; “I wonder if it is dear? ” 

And riveted he was. The family had his back 
glued together, and they put a strong rivet in his 
neck, so that he was as good as new; but he could 
no longer nod. 

“You have become very conceited since you were 
broken to pieces,” said Major-and-Lieutenant-Gen- 
eral- War-Commander-Sergeant Billy-goat-legs ; “ it 
seems to me that it is nothing to be proud of. Am 
I to have the Shepherdess, or am I not? ” 

The Chimney-Sweep and the little Shepherdess 
looked piteously at the old Chinaman. They were 
terribly afraid that he would nod ; but he was un- 
able to do this, and as it was disagreeable for him 
to tell a stranger that he had a rivet in his neck, 
the two little porcelain people were allowed to re- 
main together. They blessed the old grandfather’s 
rivet, and loved one another until they broke. 


THE LITTLE MATCH GIRL. 


It was terribly cold ; the snow was falling, and 
it began to grow dark, for the evening was coming 
on, and it was the last evening of the year — New 
Year’s Eve. In the cold and darkness, a poor little 
girl, with hare head and naked feet, was walking 
along the street. She certainly had had slippers 
on when she left home, hut of what use were they? 
They were large slippers — in fact, her mother had 
used them, so big were they ; and the little girl had 
lost them when she ran across the street, for two 
big wagons came rattling by at a terrible rate. 
One of the slippers she couldn’t find; and a little 
boy ran about with the other, saying that it would 
make a capital cradle when he had children of his 
own. So now the child walked along with her little 
naked feet, which were red and blue with cold. 
In an old apron she carried a number of matches, 
holding one bundle in her hand. Nobody had 
bought anything of her the whole day long, nobody 
had given her a single penny. Shivering with cold 
and hunger, she crept along, looking oh ! so miser- 
able, poor little thing! The snowflakes fell upon 
her long fair hair, that hung in pretty curls around 
her neck, but she did not think of this now. 


THE LITTLE HATCH GIRL, 


39 


By-and-by all the windows were lit up, and in 
the street there was a delicious smell of roast goose ; 
for it was New Year’s Eve — yes, she remembered 
that. In a corner formed by two houses, one of 
which projected beyond the other, she sat down, 
huddling herself together. She drew her little legs 
up under her; but she grew colder still, and she 
dared not go home : for she had sold no matches — 
had not earned a single penny. Her father would 
beat her, and, besides, it was cold at home: they 
had nothing over them but the roof, through which 
the wind came whistling, although the largest holes 
were filled up with straw and rags. Her little 
hands were nearly dead with cold. 

Ah ! a match might do her some good, if only she 
could draw one out of the bundle and rub it 
against the wall, just to warm her fingers. She 
drew one out. Fizz ! how it sputtered and burned ; 
there was a warm flame, just like a tiny candle, 
as she held her hands over it; it was a wonderful 
little light. It seemed to the little girl that she 
sat in front of a large open stove, with polished 
brass feet and a brass cover. How beautifully the 
fire burned, and how warm it was! Ah! what was 
that? — the little one stretched out her tiny feet to 
warm them also; when suddenly the flame went 
out, the stove vanished, and she sat with the stump 
of a burnt match in her hand. 

She struck a new one ; it burned up, and as the 
light fell upon the wall, it became as transparent 
as a veil. She could see into a room where a table 


40 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


was spread with a white table-cloth, and upon it 
stood a fine dinner service. What a savory smell 
came from the roast goose, stuffed with dried plums 
and apples! But, even more delightful, the goose 
jumped down from the dish, and waddled along the 
floor with a knife and fork in its beak, straight 
toward the little girl. Then the match went out, 
and there was nothing to be seen but the cold thick 
wall. 

She lit another match, and saw a most beautiful 
Christmas-tree, larger and more richly bedecked 
than that which she had seen through the glass 
door at the rich merchant’s last Christmas. Thou- 
sands of candles were shining from its green 
branches, and many-colored pictures, just like those 
shown in the shop windows, looked down upon her. 
The little girl stretched out both her hands, but the 
match went out. 

The flames of the many Christmas candles rose 
higher and higher, and she saw that they were 
now twinkling stars. One of them fell, and left 
behind it a long streak of fire in the sky. ‘‘ Now 
some one is dying,” said the little one. Her old 
Grandmother, who was the only person who had 
been kind to her, and who was now dead, had once 
said : ‘‘ When a star falls, a soul goes up to God.” 

She struck another match against the wall. It 
lit up everything around, and in the brightness, 
quite clearly and distinctly, stood her old Grand- 
mother, looking upon her mildly and lovingly. 

‘‘Grandmother,” cried the little one, “take me 





-vW'* 











42 


ANDERSEN'S TALES. 


with you ! I know you will go when the match is 
burned out, and vanish like the warm stove, the 
delicious roast goose, and the big, beautiful Christ- 
mas tree,” and she hastily struck the whole bundle 
of matches, wishing to hold her Grandmother fast. 
The matches shone with a radiance brighter than 
daylight ; Grandmother had never before seemed so 
grand and so beautiful. She lifted the little girl in 
her arms, and they floated upward in joy and hap- 
piness, high, so very high, where there was no cold, 
no hunger, no sorrow. They were with God. But 
in the corner by the house sat the little girl in the 
cold morning light, with red cheeks and smiling 
lips — dead, frozen to death on the last evening of 
the Old Year! 

New Year’s morning dawned over the little dead 
child. There she sat, in the stiffness of death, still 
holding the matches, of which one bundle was 
nearly burned. 

“She wanted to warm herself,” they said. But 
no one knew what beautiful things she had seen — 
with what glory she had gone with her Grand- 
mother into the happiness of the New Year. 


THE TINDEE-BOX. 


There came a soldier marching along the high- 
road — one, two ! one, two ! He had a knapsack on 
his back, and a sword by his side, for he had been 
in the wars, and now he was going home. On the 
way he met with an old witch ; she was very hide- 
ous, and her under-lip hung down upon her breast. 
She said: ‘‘Good evening, soldier. What a fine 
sword you have, and what a big knapsack! You 
are a real soldier! You shall have as inuch money 
as you wish.” 

“Thank you, old witch,” said the soldier. 

“Do you see that big tree?” asked the witch, 
pointing to a tree that stood close by them. “ It is 
quite hollow inside. You must climb to the top, 
and then you will see a hole, through which you 
can let yourself slide, so as to get deep down into 
the tree. I will tie a rope round your waist, so that 
I can pull you up again when you call out to me.” 

“ What am I to do down in the tree? ” asked the 
soldier. 

“ Fetch some money ! ” replied the witch. “ When 
you get to the bottom of the tree you will see a 
large cave; it is quite light, for over a hundred 
lamps are burning there. Then you will see three 


44 


ANDEBSEN^S TALES, 


doors; these you can open, for the keys are in the 
key-holes. If you go into the first chamber, you 
will see a great chest in the middle of the fioor; on 
this chest sits a dog, with eyes as big as a pair of 
tea-cups. But you need not care about that. I 
will give you my blue-checked apron, and you can 
spread it out upon the floor; then go up quickly and 
take the dog, and set him on my apron, open the 
chest, and take as many pence as you like. They 
are all copper. If you prefer silver, you must go 
into the second chamber ; there sits a dog with a 
pair of eyes as big as mill-wheels. But you need 
not care about that. Set him upon my apron, and 
take some of the money. If you want gold, you 
can have that too — as much as you can carry — by 
going into the third chamber. But the dog that 
sits on the money-chest there has two eyes as big as 
the Bound Tower.^ He is a fierce dog, to be sure; 
but you need not care about that. Only set him 
on my apron, and he w’on’t hurt you; then take 
out of the chest as much gold as you like.” 

“ That’s not so bad, ” said the soldier. “ But what 
am I to give you, old witch, for you will want some- 
thing, too, I suppose?” 

‘‘No,” replied the witch, “not a single shilling. 
You need only bring me an old Tinder-box which my 
grandmother forgot when she was down there last.” 

“ Well, then, let me get the rope round my waist,” 
said the soldier. 

The Bound Tower is a well-known tower in Copenhagen. 


THE TINDER-BOX. 


45 


“Here it is,” said the witch, “and here is my 
blue-checked apron.” 

And the soldier climbed up into the tree, let him- 
self fall bump! down through the hole, and stood, 
as the witch had said, in the great cave, where over 
a hundred lamps were burning. 

Now he opened the first door. Ugh 1 there sat 
the dog with eyes as big as tea-cups, staring at him. 

“You’re a fine fellow!” exclaimed the soldier; 
and he set him on the witch’s apron, and took as 
many coppers as his pockets would hold ; locked the 
chest, put the dog back on it again, and went into 
the second chamber. Aha ! there sat the dog with 
the eyes as big as mill-wheels. 

“You should not stare so hard at me,” said the 
soldier; “you might hurt your eyes.” And he set 
the dog upon the witch’s apron. And when he 
saw the many silver coins in the chest, he threw 
away all the coppers he had, and filled his pockets 
and his knapsack with silver. 

Then he went into the third chamber. Oh, that 
was terrible! The dog in there really had two eyes 
as big as the Bound Tower, and they turned round 
and round in his head like wheels. 

“ Good evening ! ” said the soldier, and touched 
his cap, for he had never seen such a dog before. 
When he looked at him a little more closely, he 
thought, “That will do,” lifted him down on to the 
floor, and opened the chest. Good gracious! what 
a mass of gold! There was enough to buy the 
whole of Copenhagen, and all the cake-women’s 


46 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES, 


sugar pigs, and all the tin soldiers, whips, and 
rocking-horses in the whole world. What a quan- 
tity of money there was, to be sure! Now the sol- 
dier threw away all the silver coins with which he 
had filled his pockets and his knapsack, and took 
gold instead. He filled all his pockets, his knap- 
sack, his boots, and his cap, so that he could scarcely 
walk. Now indeed he had plenty of money. He 
put the dog on the chest, slammed the door, and 
called out through the tree : “ Now pull me up, old 
witch.” 

“Have you the Tinder-box?” asked the witch. 

“There!” exclaimed the soldier, “I have clean 
forgotten it.” 

And he went and fetched it. 

The witch pulled him up, and he stood on the 
high-road again, with pockets, boots, knapsack, and 
cap full of golden coins. 

“ What are you going to with the Tinder-box? ” 
he asked. 

“That has nothing to do with you,” replied the 
witch. “ You have your money — now give me the 
Tinder-box.” 

“Nonsense! ” said the soldier. “Tell me at once 
what you are going to do with it, or I will draw 
my sword and cut off your head ! ” 

“No!” cried the witch. 

So the soldier cut off her head. There she lay ! 
And he tied up all his money in her apron, lifted it 
on to his back like a bundle, put the Tinder-box in 
his pocket, and went straight off to the town. 


THE TINDER-BOX. 


47 


It was a splendid town ! He put up at the very 
best inn, asked for the finest rooms, and ordered 
dishes that he liked, for he was now rich, and had 
plenty of money. The servant who had to clean 
his boots certainly thought them a remarkably old 
pair for such a rich gentleman; but he had not 
bought any new ones yet. The next day he ordered 
proper boots and handsome clothes. Now the sol- 
dier had become a fine gentleman. The people told 
him of all the splendor in their city, and about the 
King, and what a beautiful Princess the King’s 
daughter was. 

“ Where is she to be seen? ” asked the soldier. 

‘‘She is not to be seen at all,” they all said ; “she 
lives in a great copper castle, surrounded by many 
walls and towers. No one but the King may visit 
the castle, for it has been prophesied that she will 
marry a common soldier, and the King will not 
hear of this.” 

“I should like to see her,” thought the soldier; 
but he was unable to get permission. 

He now lived merrily, went to the theatre, drove 
in the King’s garden, and gave large sums of 
money to the poor. This was very kind of him ; 
but he knew from old times how hard it was to be 
penniless. Now he was rich, had fine clothes, and 
made many friends, who all said he was a good fel- 
low and a true gentleman ; and this pleased him. 
But as he spent money every day and never earned 
any, he had at last only twopence left ; and he was 
obliged to move away from the fine rooms in which 


48 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


he had dwelt, and live in a little garret just under 
the roof, where he had to clean his boots himself, 
and mend them with a darning-needle. None of 
his friends came to see him, for there were too 
many stairs to climb. 

One evening it was quite dark, and he could not 
even buy himself a candle; but it occurred to him 
that there was a candle-stump in the Tinder-box 
which he had taken from the hollow tree into which 
the witch had helped him. He brought out the 
Tinder-box and the bit of candle; but as soon as he 
struck a light and the sparks flew from the flint, 
the door sprang open, and the dog with eyes as big 
as a pair of tea-cups, which he had seen in the tree, 
stood before him, and said — 

“ What does my lord order?” 

“What?” exclaimed the soldier. “This is a 
famous Tinder-box indeed, if it can get me any- 
thing I want! Bring me some money! ” said he to 
the dog; and whisk! the dog was gone, and whisk! 
he was back again, with a big bag full of coppers 
in his mouth. 

Now the soldier knew what a splendid Tinder-box 
it was. If he struck it once, in came the dog who 
sat upon the chest of copper money; if he struck 
it twice, in came the dog who had the silver coins ; 
and if he struck it three times, in came the dog 
who had the gold. 

So the soldier moved back into the fine rooms, 
appeared in handsome clothes, and all his friends 
knew him again, and liked him very much indeed. 



50 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES, 


Then thought he to himself : ‘‘ It is absurd that 
one cannot manage to see the Princess. They all 
say she is so beautiful; but what is the use of that, 
if she has always to sit in the great copper castle 
with the many towers? Is there no way I can get 
to see her? Ah — where is my Tinder-box?^’ So 
he struck a light, and whisk ! came the dog with 
eyes as big as tea cups. 

‘‘It is midnight, certainly, ’’said the soldier, “but 
I should very much like to see the Princess, if only 
for a moment.” 

The dog was outside the door at once, and, be- 
fore the soldier had time to think, he was back 
again with the Princess. She lay asleep on the 
dog’s back, and was so beautiful that every one 
could see that she was a real Princess. The soldier 
could not help it ; he was obliged to kiss her, for he 
was a real soldier. Then the dog ran back with the 
Princess. 

But when the morning came, and the King and 
Queen were at breakfast, the Princess said she had 
dreamed a wonderful dream during the night. It 
was about a dog and a soldier. She had ridden 
upon the dog, and the soldier had kissed her. 

“Well, that is a fine story,” said the Queen. 
And one of the old maids-of -honor was set to watch 
the next night by the Princess’s bed, to discover 
whether this was really a dream, or what else it 
might be. 

The soldier had a great longing to see the lovely 
Princess again ; so the dog came in the night, took 


THE TINDER-BOX, 


51 


her awa}’', and ran as fast as he could. But the old 
maid-of-honor put on water-boots, and ran just as 
fast after him. When she saw that they disap- 
peared into a great house, she thought, “Now I 
know where it is,” and with a bit of chalk she drew 
a big cross on the door. 

Then she went home and went to bed, and the 
dog ran back with the Princess; but when he saw 
that there was a cross drawn on the door where the 
soldier lived, he took a piece of chalk too, and drew 
crosses on all the doors in the town. That was 
cleverly done, for now the maid-of-honor could not 
. find the right door, as there were crosses on all of 
them. 

In the early morning the King and the Queen 
came with the old maid-of-honor and all the offi- 
cers of the Court, to see where the Princess had 
been. 

“ Here it is ! ” said the King, when he saw the 
first door with a cross upon it. 

“ No, my dear husband, it is here ! ” said the 
Queen, who saw another door with a cross on it. 

“But there is one, and there is another!” they 
all cried, for wherever they looked there were 
crosses on the doors. So they saw at once that it 
would be useless to continue the search. 

But the Queen was a very clever woman, who 
could do more than drive in a carriage. She took 
her great gold scissors, cut up a big piece of silk, 
and made a neat little bag; this she filled with fine 
buckwheat grain, and tied it on the Princess’s back; 


52 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES, 


and when that was done, she cut a little hole in the 
bag, so that the grain would be scattered wherever 
the Princess went. 

In the night the dog went again to the castle, 
took the Princess on its back, and ran with her to 
the soldier, who loved her very much, and who 
wished he was a prince, so that he could make her 
his wife. The dog did not notice how the grain 
was scattered the whole way from the castle to the 
soldier’s window, where he ran up the wall with 
the Princess. 

In the morning the King and the Queen easily 
discovered where their daughter had been, and they, 
took the soldier and put him in prison. 

There he sat. Ugh ! How dark and miserable it 
was ! And they said to him, ‘‘ To-morrow you shall 
be hanged!” That was not a pleasant thing to 
hear, for he had left his Tinder-box at the inn. In 
the morning he saw, through the iron grating of 
the little window, how the people were hurrying 
out of the town to see him hanged. He heard the 
drums, and saw the soldiers marching. All the 
people were running out, and there was a shoe- 
maker’s boy with leathern apron and slippers, who 
ran so fast that one of his slippers flew off, and 
came right against the wall where the soldier sat 
peeping out through the iron grating. 

“Hallo, you shoemaker’s boy! you needn’t be in 
such a hurry,” cried the soldier to him; “it will 
not begin till I come. If you will run over to 
where I live, and bring me my Tinder-box, you 










O’ 








(*-» 0 ** 









54 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES, 


shall have fourpence, but you must put your best 
leg foremost.’’ 

The shoemaker’s boy wished to earn the four- 
pence, so he hurried awa}^ to fetch the Tinder-box, 
and gave it to the soldier — and now we shall hear 
what happened. 

Outside the town a large scaffold had been 
erected, and round it stood the soldiers and many 
hundreds of thousands of people. The King and 
Queen sat on a splendid throne opposite the judges 
and the whole Council. 

The soldier was standing on the ladder ; but as 
they were about to put the rope round his neck, he 
said it was usual to grant an innocent request be- 
fore a poor criminal suffered punishment. He 
would so very much like to smoke a pipe of tobaco, 
for it would be the last pipe he would smoke in this 
world ! 

This the King could not refuse, so the soldier 
took his Tinder-box, and struck fire. One — two — 
three ! and suddenly there stood all the dogs — the 
one with eyes as big as tea-cups, the one with eyes 
as large as mill-wheels, and the one whose eyes 
were as big as the Eound Tower. 

“ Help me now, so that I may not be hanged ! ” 
said the soldier. 

And the dogs fell upon all the judges and the 
whole of the Council, seized one by the legs, and 
another by the nose, and tossed them all yards into 
the air, so that they fell down, and were dashed to 
pieces. 


THE TINDER-BOX. 


55 


“I won’t! ” cried the King; but the biggest dog 
took both him and the Queen, and threw them after 
the others. Then the soldiers were frightened, and 
all the people cried, “Little soldier, you shall be 
our King, and marry the beautiful Princess! ” 

So they put the soldier into the King’s coach, 
and all the three dogs danced in front, and cried, 
“ Hurrah ! ” and the boys whistled through their 
fingers, and the soldiers presented arms. The 
Princess came out from the copper castle, and be- 
came Queen, and this pleased her very well. 

The wedding festivities lasted eight days, and 
the dogs sat at the table too, with their eyes wide 
open. 


THUMBELINA. 


There was once a woman who wanted to have 
quite a tiny, little child, but she did not know 
where to get one from. So one day she went to an 
old Witch and said to her: ‘‘I should so much like 
to have a tiny, little child ; can you tell me where 
I can get one? ’’ 

“Oh, we have just got one ready!” said the 
Witch. “ Here is a barley-corn for you, but it’s not 
the kind the farmer sows in his field, or feeds the 
cocks and hens with, I can tell you. Put it in a 
flower-pot, and then you will see something happen.” 

“Oh, thank you!” said the woman, and gave 
the Witch a shilling, for that was what it cost. 
Then she went home and planted the barley-corn; 
immediately there grew out of it a large and beau- 
tiful flower, which looked like a tulip, but the petals 
were tightly closed as if it were still only a bud. 

“ What a beautiful flower! ” exclaimed the wom- 
an, and she kissed the red and yellow petals ; but 
as she kissed them the flower burst open. It was a 
real tulip, such as one can see any day ; but in the 
middle of the blossom, on the green velvety petals, 
sat a little girl, quite tiny, trim, and pretty. She 
was scarcely half a thumb in height ; so they called 











58 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


her Thumbelina. An elegant polished walnut-shell 
served Thumbelina as a cradle, the blue petals of a 
violet were her mattress, and a rose-leaf her cover- 
lid. There she lay at night, but in the day-time 
she used to play about on the table; here the wom- 
an had put a bowl, surrounded by a ring of flow- 
ers, with their stalks in water, in the middle of 
which floated a great tulip petal, and on this 
Thumbelina sat, and sailed from one side of the 
bowl to the other, rowing herself with two white 
horse-hairs for oars. It was such a pretty sight ! 
She could sing, too, with a voice more soft and 
sweet than had ever been heard before. 

One night, when she was lying in her pretty 
little bed, an old toad crept in through a broken 
pane in the window. She was very ugly, clumsy, 
and clammy; she hopped on to the table where 
Thumbelina lay asleep under the red rose-leaf. 

“This would make a beautiful wife for my son,” 
said the toad, taking up the walnut-shell, with 
Thumbelina inside, and hopping with it through 
the window into the garden. 

There flowed a great wide stream, with slippery 
and marshy banks; here the toad lived with her 
son. Ugh! how ugly and clammy he was, just 
like his mother! “Croak, croak, croak!” was all 
he could say when he saw the pretty little girl in 
the walnut-shell. 

“Don’t talk so loud, or you’ll wake her, ’’said the 
old toad. “ She might escape us even now; she is 
as light as a feather. We will put her at once on 


TRUMBELINA. 


59 


a broad water-lily leaf in the stream. That will be 
quite an island for her ; she is so small and light. 
She can’t run away from us there, whilst we are 
preparing the guest-chamber under the marsh 
where she shall live.” 

Outside in the brook grew many water-lilies, 
with broad green leaves, which looked as if they 
were swimming about on the water. The leaf far- 
thest away was the largest, and to this the old toad 
swam with Thumbelina in her walnut-shell. 

The tiny Thumbelina woke up very early in the 
morning, and when she saw where she was she be- 
gan to cry bitterly ; for on every side of the great 
green leaf was water, and she could not get to the 
land. 

The old toad was down under the marsh, deco- 
rating her room with rushes and yellow marigold 
leaves, to make it very grand for her new daughter- 
in-law; then she swam out with her ugly son to the 
leaf where Thumbelina lay. She wanted to fetch 
the pretty cradle to put it into her room before 
Thumbelina herself came there. The old toad 
bowed low in the water before her, and said : Here 
is my son; you shall marry him, and live in great 
magnificence down under the marsh.” 

“ Croak, croak, croak ! ” was all that the son 
could say. Then they took the neat little cradle 
and swam away with it; but Thumbelina sat alone 
on the great green leaf and wept, for she did not 
want to live with the clammy toad, or marry her 
ugly son. The little fishes swimming about under 


60 


ANDERSEN^ 8 TALES, 


the water had seen the toad quite plainly, and 
heard what she had said ; so they put up their heads 
to see the little girl. When they saw her, they 
thought her so pretty that they were very sorry she 
should go down with the ugly toad to live. No; 
that must not happen. They assembled in the 
water round the green stalk which supported the 
leaf on which she was sitting, and nibbled the stem 
in two. Away floated the leaf down the stream, 
bearing Thumbelina far beyond the reach of the 
toad. 

On she sailed past several towns, and the little 
birds sitting in the bushes saw her, and sang, 
“ What a pretty little girl ! ” The leaf floated far- 
ther and farther away ; thus Thumbelina left her 
native land. 

A beautiful little white butterfly fluttered above 
her, and at last settled on the leaf. Thumbelina 
pleased him, and she, too, was delighted, for now 
the toads could not reach her, and it was so beauti- 
ful where she was travelling ; the sun shone on the 
water and made it sparkle like the brightest silver. 
She took off her sash, and tied one end round the 
butterfly ; the other end she fastened to the leaf so 
that now it glided along with her faster than ever. 

A great cockchafer came flying past; he caught 
sight of Thumbelina, and in a moment had put his 
arms round her slender waist, and had flown off 
with her to a tree. The green leaf floated away 
down the stream, and the butterfly with it, for he 
was fastened to the leaf and could not get loose 


THUMBELINA. 


61 


from it. Oh, dear ! hovV terrified poor little Thumb- 
elina was when the cockchafer fiew off with her 
to the tree ! But she was especially distressed on 
the beautiful white butterfly’s account, as she had 
tied him fast, so that if he could not get away he 
must starve to death. But the cockchafer did not 
trouble himself about that ; he sat down with her 
on a large green leaf, gave her the honey out of the 
flowers to eat, and told her that she was very pretty, 
although she wasn’t in the least like a cockchafer. 
Later on, all the other cockchafers who lived in 
the same tree came to pay calls; they examined 
Thumbelina closely, and remarked, ‘‘ Why, she has 
only two legs ! How very miserable ! ” 

“She has no feelers! ” cried another. 

“How ugly she is!” said all the lady chafers — 
and yet Thumbelina was really very pretty. 

The cockchafer who had stolen her knew this very 
well ; but when he heard all the ladies saying she 
was ugly, he began to think so too, and would not 
keep her; she might go wherever she liked. So he 
fiew down from the tree with her and put her on a 
daisy. There she sat and wept, because she was so 
ulgy that the cockchafer would have nothing to do 
with her; and yet she was the most beautiful crea- 
ture imaginable, so soft and delicate, like the loveli- 
est rose-leaf. 

The whole summer poor little Thumbelina lived 
alone in the great wood. She plaited a bed for 
herself of blades of grass, and hung it up under a 
clover-leaf, so that she was protected from the rain ; 


62 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


she gathered honey from the flowers for food, and 
drank the dew on the leaves every morning. Thus 
the summer and autumn passed, hut then came 
winter — the long, cold winter. All the birds who 
had sung so sweetly about her had flown away ; the 
trees shed their leaves, the flowers died ; the great 
clover-leaf under whch she had lived curled up, and 
nothing remained of it bat the withered stalk. She 
was terribly cold, for her clothes were ragged, and 
she herself was so small and thin. Poor little 
Thumbelina! she would surely be frozen to death. 
It began to snow, and every snowflake that fell on 
her was to her as a whole shovelful thrown on one 
of us, for we are so big, and she was only an inch 
high. She wrapt herself round in a dead leaf, but 
it was torn in the middle and gave her no warmth ; 
she was trembling with cold. 

Just outside the wood where she was now living 
lay a great corn-field. But the corn had been gone 
a long time; only the dry, bare stubble was left 
standing in the frozen ground. This made a forest 
for her to wander about in. All at once she came 
across the door of a field-mouse, who had a little 
hole under a corn-stalk. There the mouse lived 
warm and snug, with a store-room full of corn, 
a splendid kitchen and dining-room. Poor little 
Thumbelina went up to the door and begged for a 
little piece of barley, for she had not had anything 
to eat for the last two days. 

“Poor little creature ! ” said the field-mouse, for 
she was a kind-hearted old thing at the bottom. 


THUMBELINA. 


63 


‘‘Come into iny warm room and have some dinner 
with me.” 

As Thumbelina pleased her, she said : “As far as 
I am concerned you may spend the winter with me ; 
but you must keep my room clean and tidy, and 
tell me stories, for I like that very much.” 

And Thumbelina did all that the kind old field- 
mouse asked, and did it remarkably well too. 

“Now I am expecting a visitor,” said the field- 
mouse ; “ my neighbor comes to call on me once a 
week. He is in better circumstances than I am, 
has great, big rooms, and wears a fine black velvet 
coat. If 3"ou could only marry him, you would be 
well provided for. But he is blind You must tell 
him all the prettiest stories you know.” 

But Thumbelina did not trouble her head about 
him, for he was only a mole. He came and paid 
them a visit in his black velvet coat. 

“He is so rich and so accomplished,” the field- 
mouse told her. “ His house is twenty times larger 
than mine; he possesses great knowledge, but he 
cannot bear the sun and the beautiful flowers, and 
speaks slightingly of them, for he has never seen 
them.” 

Thumbelina had to sing to him, so she sang 
“Lady-bird, lady-bird, fly away home!” and other 
songs so prettily that the mole fell in love with her ; 
but he did not say anything, he was a very cautious 
man. A short time before he had dug a long pas- 
sage through the ground from his own house to 
that of his neighbor ; in this he gave the field-mouse 


64 


ANDERSEN TALES. 


and Thumbelina permission to walk as often as they 
liked. But he begged them not to he afraid of the 
dead bird that lay in the passage: it was a real bird 
with beak and feathers, and must have died a little 
time ago, and now laid buried just where he had 
made his tunnel. The mole took a piece of rotten 
wood in his mouth, for that glows like fire in the 
dark, and went in front, lighting them through the 
long dark passage. When they came to the place 
where the dead bird lay, the mole put his broad 
nose against the ceiling and pushed a hole through, 
so that the daylight could shine down. In the 
middle of the path lay a dead swallow, his pretty 
wings pressed close to his sides, his claws and head 
drawn under his feathers; the poor bird had evi- 
dently died of cold. Thumbelina was very sorry, 
for she was ver}^ fond of all little birds; they had 
sung and twittered so beautifully to her all through 
the summer. But the mole kicked him with his 
bandy legs and said : 

“Now he can’t sing any more! It must be very 
miserable to be a little bird ! I’m thankful that 
none of my little children are ; birds always starve 
in winter.” 

“Yes, you speak like a sensible man,” said the 
field-mouse. “ What has a bird, in spite of all his 
singing, in the winter-time? He must starve and 
freeze, and that must be very pleasant for him, I 
must say 1 ” 

Thumbelina did not say anything ; but when the 
other two had passed on she bent down to the bird, 





66 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


brushed aside the feathers from his head, and kissed 
his closed eyes gently. “Perhaps it was he that 
sang to me so prettily in the summer, ’’she thought. 
“How much pleasure he did give me, dear little 
bird ! ” 

The mole closed up the hole again which let in 
the light, and then escorted the ladies home. But 
Thumbelina could not sleep that night ; so she got 
out of bed, and plaited a great big blanket of straw, 
and carried it off, and spread it over the dead bird, 
and piled upon it thistle-down as soft as cotton- 
wool, which she had found in the field-mouse’s 
room, so that the poor little thing should lie warmly 
buried. 

“ Farewell, pretty little bird ! ” she said. “ Fare- 
well, and thank you for your beautiful songs in the 
summer, when the trees were green, and the sun 
shone down warmly on us ! ” Then she laid her head 
against the bird’s heart. But the bird was not 
dead he had been frozen, but now that she had 
warmed him, he was coming to life again. 

In autumn the swallows fiy away to foreign 
lands; but there are some who are late in starting, 
and then they get so cold that they drop down as if 
dead, and the snow comes and covers them over. 

Thumbelina trembled, she was so frightened; for 
the bird was very large in comparison with her- 
self — only an inch high. But she took courage, 
piled up the down more closely over the poor swal- 
low, fetched her own coverlid and laid it over his 
head. 


THUMBELINA, 


67 


Next night she crept out again to him. There 
he was alive, but very weak; he could only open his 
eyes for a moment and look at Thumbelina, who was 
standing in front of him with a piece of rotten wood 
in her hand, for she had no other lantern. 

“ Thank you, pretty little child ! ” said the swallow 
to her. “I am so beautifully warm! Soon I shall 
regain my strength, and then I shall be able to fly 
out again into the warm sunshine.” 

‘‘Oh!” she said, “it is very cold outside; it is 
snowing and freezing! stay in your warm bed; I 
will take care of you ! ” 

Then she brought him water in a petal, which he 
drank, after which he related to her how he had 
torn one of his wings on a bramble, so that he 
could not fly as fast as the other swallows, who had 
flown far away to warmer lands. So at last he had 
dropped down exhausted, and then he could re- 
member no more. The whole winter he remained 
down there, and Thumbelina looked after him and 
nursed him tenderly. Neither the mole nor the 
fleld-mouse learnt anything of this, for they could 
not bear the poor swallow. 

When the spring came, and the sun warmed the 
earth again, the swallow said farewell to Thumb- 
elina, who opened the hole in the roof for him 
which the mole had made. The sun shone brightly 
down upon her, and the swallow asked her if she 
would go with him ; she could sit upon his back. 
Thumbelina wanted very much to fly far away into 
the green wood, but she knew that the old fleld- 


68 


ANDEBSEN^S TALES. 


mouse would be sad if she ran away. ‘‘No, I 
mustn’t come! ” she said. 

“ Farewell, dear good little girl 1 ” said the swal- 
low, and flew off into the sunshine. Thumbelina 
gazed after him with the tears standing in her eyes, 
for she was very fond of the swallow. 

“ Tweet, tweet ! ” sang the bird, and flew into the 
green wood. Thumhelina was very unhappy. She 
was not allowed to go out into the warm sunshine. 
The corn which had been sowed in the field over 
the field-mouse’s home grew up high into the air, 
and made a thick forest for the poor little girl, who 
was only an inch high. 

“Now you are to be a bride, Thumbelina!” said 
the field-mouse, “for our neighbor has proposed for 
you ! What a piece of fortune for a poor child like 
you! Now you must set to work at your linen for 
your dowry, for nothing must be lacking if you are 
to become the wife of our neighbor, the mole ! ” 

Thumbelina had to spin all day long, and every 
evening the mole visited her, and told her that when 
the summer was over the sun would not shine so 
hot; now it was burning the earth as hard as a 
stone. Yes, when the summer had passed, they 
would keep the wedding. 

But she was not at all jAeased about it, for she 
did not like the stupid mole. Every morning when 
the sun was rising, and every evening when it 
was setting, she would steal out of the house-door, 
and when the breeze parted the ears of corn so that 
she could see the blue sky through them, she thought 


liilHU 



70 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


how bright and beautiful it must be outside, and 
longed to see her dear swallow again. But he never 
came; no doubt he had flown away far into the 
great green wood. 

By the autumn Thumbelina had flnished the 
dowry. 

“In four weeks you will be married!” said the 
field-mouse; “don’t be obstinate, or I shall bite you 
with my sharp white teeth! You will get a fine 
husband ! The King himself has not such a velvet 
coat. His store-room and cellar are full, and you 
should be thankful for that.” 

Well, the wedding-day arrived. The mole had 
come to fetch Thumbelina to live with him deep 
down under the ground, never to come out into the 
warm sun again, for that was what he didn’t like. 
The poor little girl was very sad ; for now she must 
say good-by to the beautiful sun. 

“Farewell, bright sun!” she cried, stretching 
out her arms toward it, and taking another step 
outside the house; for now the corn had been 
reaped, and only the dry stubble was left stand- 
ing. “Farewell, farewell!” she said, and put her 
arms round a little red flower that grew there. 
“ Give my love to the dear swallow when you see 
him ! ” 

“ Tweet, tweet ! ” sounded in her ear all at once. 
She looked up. There was the swallow flying past ! 
As soon as he saw Thumbelina, he was very glad. 
She told him how unwilling she was to marry the 
ugly mole, as then she had to live underground 


THUMBELINA, 


71 


where the sun never shone, and she could not help 
bursting into tears. 

‘‘The cold winter is coming now,” said the swal- 
low. “I must fly away to warmer lands: will you 
come with me? You can sit on my back, and we 
will fly far away from the ugly mole and his dark 
house, over the mountains, to the warm countries 
where the sun shines more brightly than here, 
where it is always summer, and there are always 
beautiful flowers. Do come with me, dear little 
Thumbelina, who saved my life when I lay frozen 
in the dark tunnel ! ” 

“Yes, I will go with you,” said Thumbelina, and 
got on the swallow’s back, with her feet on one of 
his outstretched wings. Up he flew into the air, 
over woods and seas, over the great mountains 
where the snow is always lying. And if she was 
cold she crept under his warm feathers, only keeping 
her little head out to admire all the beautiful things 
in the world beneath. At last they came to warm 
lands; there the sun was brighter, the sky seemed 
twice as high, and in the hedges hung the finest 
green and purple grapes ; in the woods grew oranges 
and lemons: the air was scented with myrtle and 
mint, and on the roads were pretty little children 
running about and playing with great gorgeous but- 
terflies. But the swallow flew on farther, and it 
became more and more beautiful. Under the most 
splendid green trees beside a blue lake stood a 
glittering white marble castle. Vines hung about 
the high pillars; there were many swallows’ nests, 


72 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


and in one of these lived the swallow who was 
carrying Thumbelina. 

“ Here is my house 1 ” said he. But it won’t do 
for you to live with me ; I am not tidy enough to 
please you. Find a home for yourself in one of the 
lovely flowers that grow down there ; now I will set 
you down, and you can do whatever you like.” 

“ That will be splendid ! ” said she, clapping her 
little hands. 

There lay a great white marble column which 
had fallen to the ground and broken into three 
pieces, but between these grew the most beautiful 
white flowers. The swallow flew down with Thumb- 
elina, and set her upon one of the broad leaves. 
But there, to her astonishment, she found a tiny 
little man sitting in the middle of the flower, as 
white and transparent as if he were made of glass; 
he had the prettiest golden crown on his head, and 
the most beautiful wings on his shoulders ; he him- 
self was no bigger than Thumbelina. He was the 
spirit of the flower. In each blossom there dwelt 
a tiny man or woman ; but this one was the King 
over the others. 

“How handsome he is!” whispered Thumbelina 
to the swallow. 

The little Prince was very much frightened at the 
swallow, for in comparison with one so tiny as him- 
self he seemed a giant. But when he saw Thumb- 
elina, he was delighted, for she was the most beau- 
tiful girl he had ever seen. So he took his golden 
crown from off his head and put it on hers, asking 


THJJMBELINA, 


73 


her her name, and if she would be his wife, and 
then she would be Queen of all the flowers. Yes! 
he was a different kind of husband to the son of the 
toad and the mole with the black velvet coat. So 
she said “Yes” to the noble Prince. And out of 
each flower came a lady and gentleman, each so 
tiny and pretty that it was a pleasure to see them. 
Each brought Thumbelina a present, but the best 
of all was a beautiful pair of wings which were 
fastened on to her back, and now she too could fly 
from flower to flower. They all wished her joy, 
and the swallow sat above in his nest and sang the 
wedding march, and that he did as well as he 
could ; but he was sad, because he was very fond of 
Thumbelina and did not want to be separated from 
her. 

“You shall not be called Thumbelina! ” said the 
spirit of the flower to her ; “ that is an ugly name, 
and you are much too pretty for that. We will call 
you May Blossom.” 

“ Farewell, farewell ! ” said the little swallow 
with a heavy heart, and flew away to farther lands, 
far, far away, right back to Denmark. There he 
had a little nest above a window, where his wife 
lived, who can tell fairy-stories. “Tweet, tweet!” 
he sang to her. And that is the way we learnt the 
whole story. 


THE STOEKS. 

On the last house in a little village stood a stork’s 
nest. Mother Stork sat in it with her four young 
ones, who stretched out their heads with the sharp 
black bills, for these bad not yet turned red. A 
little way off stood Father Stork, erect and stately 
on the ridge of the roof. He had drawn up one of 
his legs under him, so as to feel a little uncomfort- 
able while he stood sentry. One might have fan- 
cied that he was carved out of wood, so still did he 
stand. 

“It must appear very aristocratic,” he thought, 
“for my wife to have a sentry standing by her nest. 
They can’t know that it is her husband. They 
must think I have been ordered to stand here ; how 
grand it looks ! ” So he continued to stand on one 
leg. 

In the street below quite a number of children 
were playing, and when they caught sight of the 
storks, one of the boldest of the boys, and afterward 
all of them, sang an old rhyme about storks. But 
they only sang it just as they could remember it: — ■ 

“ Stork, stork, fly away ! 

Why stand on one leg all day? 


THE STOBKS. 


75 


Your wife is in her cosy nest, 

Where her four small children rest. 

“ They’ll hang one bird, 

And fry another, 

And shoot the third. 

And cook his brother.” 

‘‘Just listen to what those boys are saying! ” said 
the little Stork children. “They say we are to be 
hanged and fried.” 

“Never mind about that!” said Mother Stork. 
“If you don’t listen you won’t hear anything.” 

But the boys went on singing, and pointing at 
the Storks ; only one boy, whose name was Peter, 
said that it was a shame to tease the birds, and he 
would have nothing to do with it. 

Mother Stork comforted her little ones. 

“Never mind,” said she; “see how quietly your 
father stands, although he is only on one leg.” 

“ We are so frightened ! ” said the young Storks, 
and they drew their heads far into the nest. 

The next day, when the children came out again 
to play, and saw the Storks, they sang their song : — 

“They’ll hang one bird. 

And fry another.” 

“Are we really to be hanged and eaten?” asked 
the young Storks. 

“No, indeed!” said the mother. “You must 


76 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


learn to fly ; I will teach you ; then we will go out 
into the meadows and pay a visit to the frogs. 
They will bow to us in the water, and sing ‘ Co — 
ax ! CO — ax ! ’ and then we shall eat them up. 
That will be very enjoyable.” 

‘‘And what then?” asked the young Storks. 

“ Then all the storks in the country will meet to- 
gether, and begin the autumn manoeuvres. By 
that time you must be able to fly well; that is a 
very important matter, for every stork who is un- 
able to fly properly is killed by the general with his 
beak. You must therefore be careful and pay great 
attention when the drilling begins.” 

“ Then we shall be killed after all, just as the 
boys say? Only listen — now they are saying it 
again.” 

“Listen to me, and not to them,” said Mother 
Stork. “After the great manoeuvres we shall fly 
to the warm countries, far away from here, over 
mountains and forests. We shall fly to Egypt, 
where there are three-cornered houses of stone 
which slope up to a point far above the clouds; they 
call them Pyramids, and they are older than any 
stork can imagine. There is a river which over- 
flows its banks, and all the land is turned to mud. 
One walks about in the mud, and eats frogs.” 

“ Oh ! ” cried all the young ones. 

‘Yes, it is a delightful place. We do nothing 
there all day long but eat ; and while we are so 
comfortable over there, in this country not a green 
leaf is on the trees; it is so cold that the clouds 



t 


78 ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 

freeze to pieces, and fall down in little white frag- 
ments! ” 

It was the snow that she meant, but this was the 
best explanation she could give. 

“And do the naughty boys also freeze to pieces? ’’ 
asked the young Storks. 

“ No, they do not freeze to pieces, but they are 
not very far from it, and have to sit cowering in 
their dark rooms ; whereas you are able to fly about 
in those foreign lands, where there are flowers and 
warm sunshine.’’ 

After some time the youngsters grew so big that 
they could stand upright in the nest and look far 
around. Father Stork came every day with deli- 
cious frogs, little snakes, and all the other stork 
dainties that he could And. Oh ! what fun it was 
when he performed his tricks before them! He 
would lay his head quite back upon his tail, make 
a noise with his beak, as if it were a rattle ; and 
then he told them stories, all about the marshes. 

“Now listen! it is time that you learned to fly,” 
said Mother Stork one day ; and so the four little 
Storks had to get out on the ridge of the roof. Oh, 
how they tottered ! how they balanced themselves 
with their wings! — and yet they were near fall- 
ing. 

“Now, just look at me!” said the Mother. 
“You must hold your heads like this! you must 
place your feet like this! One! two! one, two! 
That is what will help you on in the world.” 

Then she flew a little way, and the young ones 


THE STORKS. 


79 


made a little clumsy leap. Bump ! — there they lay, 
for their bodies were too heavy. 

“I don’t want to fly!” said one of the little 
Storks, and he crept back into the nest; ‘‘I don’t 
care to go to the warm countries.” 

‘‘ Then do you want to be frozen to death when 
the winter comes? Are the boys to come and hang 
you? Now, I will just call them ! ” 

‘‘Oh! no,” cried the little Stork, and he hopped 
out on to the roof again like the rest. 

On the third day they could actually fly a little ; 
so they thought they could rest on their wings in 
the air. But when they tried this — bump ! — down 
they tumbled, and they had to flap their wings 
again. Now the boys came down the street, and 
sang their song : — 

“Stork, stork, fly away!” 

“Shall we fly down and peck out their eyes?’^ 
asked the young Storks. 

“No; leave them alone,” replied the mother; 
“only listen to me, that is far more important. 
One, two, three ! — now we fly round to the right. 
One, two, three! — now round to the left of the 
chimney! Yes, that was very good; the last flap 
with the wings was so neat and correct that I will 
give you permission to go to the marsh with me 
to-morrow ! Several good Stork families go there 
with their youngsters. Let them see that you are 
the nicest, and that you can walk upright, for it 
looks well, and causes you to be respected.” 


80 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


“But shall we not be revenged on those rude 
boys? ’’ asked the young Storks. 

“Let them scream as much as they like. You 
will fly up to the clouds, and go to the land of the 
Pyramids, when they will be left to shiver, and will 
not even have a green leaf or a sweet apple.” 

“Yes, we will revenge ourselves!” they whis- 
pered to one another; and so they again began 
practising. 

Of all the boys down in the street, the one who 
most enjoyed singing the teasing song was he who 
had started it, and he was quite a little boy. He 
could hardly be more than six years old. The 
young Storks thought he was quite a hundred, for 
he was much bigger than their father and mother; 
and how should they know how old children and 
grown-up people were? They would be revenged 
at least upon this little boy, for it was he who had 
begun, and he always kept on. The young Storks 
were very angry; and as they grew bigger they 
were less inclined to bear it. At last their mother 
had to promise them that they should be revenged, 
but not until the day of their leaving the coun- 
try. 

“We must first see how you behave yourselves 
at the grand manoeuvres. If you get through them 
badly, so that the general stabs you to the heart 
with his beak, the boys will be right — at least, in 
one way. Now let us see.” 

“Yes, you shall see,” cried the young Storks; 
and then they took great pains. They practised 


THE STORKS. 


81 


every day, and flew so swiftly and gracefully, that 
it was a pleasure to see them. 

Now the autumn came on; all the Storks began 
to flock together, to fly away to countries where 
it is warm, while we have the winter here. Then 
came the manoeuvres. They had to go over forests 
and villages, only to see how well they could fly, 
for it was a long journey that they had before 
them. The young Storks did so well that they got 
“Eemarkably good, with frogs and snakes.” That 
was the highest mark ; and they were allowed to 
eat the frogs and snakes — so that is what they did. 

“Now we will have our revenge! ” they said. 

“Yes, certainly!” said Mother Stork. “I have 
thought of the best plan. I know the pond in which 
all the tiny little human children lie till the Stork 
comes and brings them to their parents. The 
pretty little babies lie there sleeping, dreaming 
more sweetly than they will ever dream afterward. 
All parents are glad to have such a baby, and all 
children want a little sister or brother. Now we 
will fly to the pond, and fetch one for each of the 
children who has not sung the naughty song and 
made fun of the Storks.” 

“But he who started singing — that naughty, 
ugly boy!” screamed the young Storks; “what 
shall we do to him? ” 

“There is a little dead baby in the pond, that has 
dreamed itself to death; we will bring that for 
him. Then he will cry, because we have brought 
him a little dead brother. But to that good boy — 
6 


82 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


you have not forgotten him — the one who said : ‘ It 
is wrong to tease the birds ! ’ — to him we will bring 
a brother and a sister. And as his name is Peter, 
all of you shall be called Peter too.’’ 

And it happened as she said; all the Storks were 
called Peter, and that is their name to this day. 



THE BEAVE TIN SOLDIER. 


There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers, 
who were all brothers, for they were all born of the 
same old tin spoon. They carried their muskets on 
their shoulders, and looked straight in front of 
them; their uniform was red and blue, and very 
pretty indeed. The very first thing they heard in 
this world, when the lid was taken off the box, was 
the words, “Tin Soldiers! ’’ for that is what a little 
hoy cried, clapping his hands, as he saw them ; they 
were given to him because it was his birthday, and 
he set them up on the table. All the soldiers were 
like each other except one, who was a little differ- 
ent ; he had only one leg, for he was the last to be 
cast, and there was not enough tin ; but he stood 
just as steadily on his one leg as the others on their 
two. And it was this one who became famous. 

On the table, where they were all set up, a num- 
ber of other toys were standing, but what first met 
the eye was a beautiful castle made of cardboard. 
Through the small windows you could see straight 
into the rooms ; little trees were standing outside, 
around a little piece of looking-glass that repre- 
sented a lake. Swans of wax were swimming 
there, and were reflected in it. This was very 


84 


ANDERSEN\^ TALES. 


pretty ; but prettiest of all was a little maid who 
was standing at the open door of the castle; she 
also was cut out of cardboard, but she had a skirt 
of the finest gauze, and a little narrow blue ribbon 
over the shoulders like a sash, in the middle of 
which was a little bit of glittering tinsel as large 
as her whole face. The little maiden stretched out 
both her arms, for she was a dancer, and she lifted 
one of her legs so high that the Tin Soldier could 
not see it at all, and thought that she had only one 
leg, like himself. 

‘‘That would be the wife for me,’’ he thought, 
“but she is too aristocratic, and lives in a castle. 
I have only a box, and that belongs to the whole 
twenty-five of us. That is no place for her ; but I 
would like to make her acquaintance all the same.” 
So he laid himself down at full length behind a 
snuff-box where he could watch the little maid, 
standing on one leg without losing her balance. 

Toward evening all the other tin soldiers were 
put into the box, and the people in the house went 
to bed. Then the toys began to play : paid visits, 
went to war, and gave balls. The tin soldiers rat- 
tled in their box, for they wanted to join in the 
fun, but they could not get the lid off. The nut- 
crackers were turning somersaults ; the slate pencil 
was at work on the slate ; and there was such a 
noise that the canary bird woke up and began to 
join in the chatter, but he spoke in verse. The 
only two who did not move from their places were 
the Tin Soldier and the little dancer. She was 






86 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


standing straight up on the tip of her toe, with both 
arms stretched out, and the Tin Soldier stood just 
as firmly on his one leg, and did not take his eyes 
off her, even fpr a moment. 

The clock struck twelve, when bang! off went 
the lid of the snuff-box. There was no snuff in it, 
hut only a tiny black goblin, and a clever toy it 
was. “Tin Soldier,” said the goblin, “please keep 
your eyes to yourself,” but the Tin Soldier pre- 
tended not to hear. “ Well, wait till to-morrow,” 
said the goblin. 

When the children came down in the morning, 
the Tin Soldier was put in the window, and whether 
it was the goblin or the draught that did it, all of 
a sudden the window flew up and the soldier fell 
head over heels from the third story. He came 
down at a terrible rate, and then he stuck upon his 
helmet, with his only leg straight up in the air, 
and his bayonet between the paving-stones. The 
servant and the little boy at once went down to find 
him, but they could net see him, although they 
nearly trod on him. 

If the little Tin Soldier had cried, “Here I am,” 
they might have found him, but he did not think it 
proper to call out loudly when he was in uniform. 

Then it began to rain ; the drops fell thicker and 
thicker, until it became a real downpour. When 
it was over two street boys came along. “Just 
look,” said one, “here’s a Tin Soldier; let us send 
him for a sail.” So they made a little boat out of 
a newspaper, put the Tin Soldier in the middle, and 


THE BRAVE TIN SOLVIER, 


87 


there he was, sailing down the gutter. Both the 
boys ran alongside and clapped their hands. Good- 
ness me ! what large waves there were in that gut- 
ter, and how strong the current was! — but then it 
had been a real downpour. 

The paper boat was tossed up and down, and now 
and then it turned round and round, until the Tin 
Soldier was quite dizzy, but he was brave and 
didn’t move a muscle; he just looked straight in 
front of him and shouldered his musket. All at 
once the boat drifted into a long drain-pipe, where 
it was just as dark as if he had been in his box. 
“ Where am I going now?” he thought. “Yes, it 
must be the goblin’s fault. Now, if only the little 
lady were here in the boat, I would not mind if it 
were twice as dark.” Suddenly they came upon a 
big water-rat, who lived in the drain-pipe. “ Have 
you a passport?” said the rat. “Let me have it.” 
The Tin Soldier said not a word, and held his 
musket tighter than ever. Away went the boat, 
and the rat after it. Ugh! how he gnashed his 
teeth and called out to the straws and chips: “Stop 
him, stop him! he hasn’t paid the toll, and hasn’t 
shown his passport ! ” But the current grew 
stronger and stronger, and the Tin Soldier could 
now see daylight shining in at the end of the pipe. 
He also heard a roaring sound, which really might 
have frightened the boldest, for just where the gut- 
ter ended, the water poured out into a large canal, 
and this was just as dangerous for him as it would 
be for us to be carried over a great waterfall. He 


88 


AJSfDERSEN^S TALES, 


was now so near it that he could not stop, so the 
boat swept out into the canal. The poor Tin Sol- 
dier stiffened himself as well as he could, and no one 
could say that he even moved an eyelid. The boat 
whirled round three or four times, filled with water 
to the very edge, and began to sink. The Tin Sol- 
dier stood up to the neck in water, and the boat 
sank deeper and deeper, the paper loosened more 
and more, until the water went over the Soldier’s 
head. He thought of the charming little dancer, 
whom he would never see again, and in his ears 
sounded the words of the song: — 

“ Oh, warrior bold, good by ! 

Thy end, alas! is nigh.” 

Then the paper burst, the Tin Soldier fell through, 
and was at once gobbled up by a big fish. Oh 1 
how dark it was in there, even worse than in the 
drain -pipe, and there was so little room ; but the 
Tin Soldier was brave, and lay at full length with 
his musket on his shoulder. The fish darted about 
in the most alarming way ; then it lay quite still ; 
but suddenly there was a flash like lightning ; the 
daylight again appeared, and some one cried, ‘‘Tin 
Soldier ! ” The fish had been caught, taken to the 
market, sold, and brought to the kitchen, where 
the cook cut it up with a big knife. She took the 
Soldier by the waist with her two fingers and 
marched him into the sitting-room, where they all 
wanted to see such a remarkable man who “bad been 




90 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


travelling about in the inside of a fish. The Tin 
Soldier wasn’t at all proud. They stood him up on 
the table, and there ! — what curious things do hap- 
pen in the world ! — the Tin Soldier was in the very 
same room in which he had been before ! He saw 
the same children, and the same toys were standing 
on the table, the pretty castle and the lovely little 
dancer, and she was still standing on one leg whilst 
the other was high up in the air. He looked at her, 
and she looked at him ; but they said nothing. Then 
one of the little boys took the Soldier and threw 
him into the fireplace ; he did not give any reason 
for doing this ; it must have been the fault of the 
goblin in the snuff-box. The Tin Soldier was quite 
lit up, and felt a great heat, but whether from the 
fire or from love he did not know. 

The colors were clean gone; whether this had 
happened from his travels or from grief no one 
could tell. He looked at the little maiden and she 
looked at him; he felt that he was melting, but 
he stood there bravely and shouldered his musket. 
Suddenly the door flew open, the draught took hold 
of the dancer, and she flew like a sylph straight 
into the fireplace to the Tin Soldier, blazed up into 
a flame, and was gone. The Tin Soldier melted 
into a lump, and when the servant-maid took out 
the ashes next day she found him transformed into 
a little tin heart. Of the dancer nothing was left 
but the little bit of tinsel, which was burnt as black 
as a cinder. 


OLE LUK-OIE. 


In the whole world there is nobody who knows so 
many stories as Ole Luk-Oie. He really can tell 
stories. 

It is in the evening, when the children are sitting 
at table, that Ole Luk-Oie comes. Softly he creeps 
up the stairs, for he walks in socks ; opens the door 
very gently, and squirts sweet milk in the chil- 
dren’s eyes — whisk! just a tiny drop, but quite 
enough to prevent them from keeping their eyes 
open; and so they cannot see him. 

Then he steals just behind them, and blows softly 
at the back of their necks, so that their heads be- 
come heavy. But of course it does not hurt them, 
for Ole Luk-Oie is fond of the children, and only 
wants them to be quiet. They are most quiet when 
they are in bed ; and they have to be very quiet in- 
deed when Ole Luk-Oie tells them his stories. 

When the children are nearly asleep. Ole Luk-Oie 
seats himself upon the bed. He is neatly dressed: 
his coat is of silk,, but it is impossible to say of 
what color, for it shines green, red, and blue, ac- 
cording to which side he turns. Under each arm 
he carries an umbrella. One is lined with pictures, 
and this he spreads over the good children, so that 


92 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


they dream the most beautiful stories the whole 
night through ; but on the other umbrella there are 
no pictures, and this he holds over the naughty 
children, so that they sleep heavily, and when they 
awake in the morning they have not dreamed at all. 

We shall now hear how Ole Luk-Oie came every 
evening for a whole week to a little boy named 
Hjalmar, and what he told him. There are seven 
stories, one for every day in the week. 


Monday. 

‘‘Listen,” said Ole Luk-Oie in the evening, when 
he had put Hjalmar to bed ; “ I will now start dec- 
orating.” 

And all the flowers of the flower-pots became 
great trees, stretching out their long branches un- 
der the ceiling of the room and along the walls, so 
that the whole room looked like a most beautiful 
green-house. All the twigs were covered with flow- 
ers, each of which was prettier than a rose, and 
very fragrant, and if you could have tasted it, it 
would have seemed sweeter than jam. The fruit 
glittered like gold, and there were buns, bursting 
with raisins. It was marvellous! But all of a 
sudden dismal groans came from the drawer in the 
table, where Hjalmar’s school-books lay. 

“Now, what can that be?” said Ole Luk-Oie, 
and he went to the table, and opened the drawer. 
It was the slate which was cracking with distress. 




94 


ANDERSEN^S TALES, 


for a wrong number had got into the sum, so that 
it was nearly falling to pieces. The slate-pencil 
jumped and tugged at its string, as if it had been 
a little dog; it wanted to correct the sum, but it 
could not. 

Then came a moan from Hjalmar’s copy-book: 
that also was wailing — it was terrible to hear. All 
the way down each page the capitals stood in a row, 
one underneath the other, each with a smaller let- 
ter at its side — that was the copy ; but besides these 
there were a few more letters who thought they 
looked just like the copy — they were the letters 
which Hjalmar had written. But they were lying 
down, just as if they had tumbled over the pencil 
line on which they were to stand. 

“Look — this is how you should hold yourselves,” 
said the copy, “sloping a little and with a bold 
swing.” 

“Oh, we should very much like to,” said Hjal- 
mar’s letters; “but we cannot — we are too poorly.” 

“Then you must take some medicine,” said Ole 
Luk-Oie. 

“ Oh, no ! ” they cried ; and then they stood up 
so gracefully that it was a pleasure to look at them. 

“Well, now we cannot have any more stories,” 
said Ole Luk-Oie, “ for I must exercise them. One, 
two! one, two!” So he drilled the letters until 
they stood quite gracefully, and were as good as 
any copy could be. But when Ole Luk-Oie went 
away, and Hjalmar looked at them the next morn- 
ing, they were quite as wretched as ever. 


OLE LUK-OIE. 


95 


Tuesday. 

As soon as Hjalmar was in bed, Ole Luk-Oie 
touched every piece of furniture in the room with 
his little magic squirt, and all began to chatter and 
talk about themselves. Only the cuspidore was si- 
lent ; it was vexed that they should be so vain as to 
speak and think only of themselves, without any 
regard for it, although it stood so modestly in the 
corner, for everybody’s use. 

Over the chest of drawers hung a large picture in 
a gilt frame ; it was a landscape. One could see 
tall old trees, and flowers in the grass ; there was a 
great lake, and a river that flowed round the forest, 
past many castles, and far out into the wide sea. 

Ole Luk-Oie touched the painting with his magic 
squirt, and the birds in it began to sing, the branches 
of the trees moved, and the clouds floated along; 
one could see their shadows glide over the land- 
scape. Then Ole Luk-Oie lifted little Hjalmar up 
to the frame, and Hjalmar put his feet into the pic- 
ture, right into the high grass; and there he stood, 
while the sun shone upon him through the branches 
of the trees. He ran to the water, and seated him- 
self in a little boat, which lay there ; it was painted 
red and white, and the sails gleamed like silver. 
Six swans, wearing golden circlets round their 
necks, and twinkling blue stars on their heads, 
drew the boat past the great forest, where the trees 
told of robbers and witches, and the flowers spoke 


96 


ANDEBSEN^S TALES. 


of graceful little elves, and of what the butterflies 
had said to them. 

Gorgeous fishes, with scales like silver and gold, 
swam after the boat, sometimes springing high into 
the air and falling iDack with a splash into the wa- 
ter; the birds, blue and red, large and small, flew 
after them in two long lines ; the gnats danced, and 
the cockchafers said, “Boom! boom!” They all 
wanted to follow Hjalmar, and each one had a story 
to tell. 

It was really a beautiful voyage. At one time the 
forests were thick and dark, at another they looked 
like a glorious garden full of sunlight and flowers. 
There were great palaces of glass and marble ; on 
the balconies stood Princesses, and they were all 
little girls whom Hjalmar knew well — he had played 
with them before. Each one stretched forth her 
hand, and held out the prettiest sugar pig that a 
cake-woman could sell. Hjalmar took hold of one 
end of the sugar pig as he passed by, but the Prin- 
cess also held fast, so that each of them got a piece 
— she the smaller part, and Hjalmar the larger. 

Before each palace stood little Princes as sen- 
tries. They presented arms with golden swords, 
and then it rained raisins and tin soldiers; they 
were real Princes. At one moment Hjalmar was 
sailing through forests, at another through great 
halls, or straight through the middle of a town. 
At last he came to the town of his old nurse, who 
had carried him in her arms when he was quite a 
little boy, and who had always been so fond of him. 


OLE LUK-Om. 


97 


She nodded and beckoned, and sang the pretty 
verses she had composed and sent to Hjalmar: — • 

To thee, sweet child, my thoughts still turn, 

My little Hjalmar ever dear; 

I think how often I have kissed 

From thy bright eyes a glistening tear. 

I heard them first, thy faltering words : 

Alas ! ‘ Farewell ’ I had to say ; 

God bless thee, dear, and keep thee safe. 

And guide thee always on thy way ! ” 

And all the birds sang too, the flowers danced on 
their stalks, and the old trees nodded, just as if Ole 
Luk-Oie had been telling stories to them. 


Wednesday. 

How the rain was streaming down outside! 
Hjalmar could hear it in his sleep; and when Ole 
Luk-Oie opened the window, the water reached up 
to the window-sill. There was a lake outside, and 
a beautiful ship was moored to the house. 

‘Hf you will sail with me,’’ said Ole Luk-Oie, 
“you may visit foreign countries to-night, and re- 
turn again in the morning.” 

Then suddenly Hjalmar stood in his Sunday 
clothes on the noble ship, and the weather im- 
mediately became fine. They sailed through the 
streets, round by the church ; and on every side 
was the wide sea. On and on they sailed, until no 


98 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


land was in sight, and they saw a flock of storks, 
which had also come from home, and was now 
travelling to the warm countries. The storks flew 
one behind the other; and in this way they had al- 
ready travelled far, very far ! One of them was so 
tired that his wings would scarcely carry him far- 
ther; he was the very last in the row, and had 
lagged a great deal behind the rest. At last he 
sank, with outspread wings, lower and lower; he 
made a few more strokes, but his efforts were use- 
less ; and at last he touched the rigging of the ship 
with his feet, then glided down the sail, and — 
bump ! there he stood upon the deck. The cabin- 
boy took him and put him into the fowl-house, with 
the fowls, ducks, and turkeys; the poor stork stood 
among them quite perplexed. 

“Just look at that fellow ! ” said all the fowls. 

The turkey-cock swelled himself up as much as 
he could, and asked the stork who he was ; while 
the ducks walked backwards, and nudged one an- 
other, saying, “Quack! quack!” 

The stork told them of torrid Africa, of the 
Pyramids, and of the ostrich which runs like a wild 
horse across the desert; but the ducks could not 
understand what he meant, and they nudged one 
another, saying: “We are all of opinion that he is 
a stupid fellow.” 

“ Well, of course he is stupid,” said the turkey- 
cock; and he gobbled. 

Then the stork stood quite silent, thinking of 
Africa. 




OLE LUK-OIE. 


99 


Those legs of yours are very thin,’’ said the tur- 
key-cock. “ What do they cost a yard? ” 

‘‘ Quack ! quack ! quack ! ” grinned all the ducks ; 
but the stork pretended not to hear them. 

“You might just as well laugh too,” said the 
turkey-cock, ‘‘for that was a very witty remark. 
Perhaps it was too witty for you? Well, that fel- 
low is not very smart ; let us continue to entertain 
one another.” And then the fowls cackled, and the 
ducks said, “Quack! quack! quack! quack!” It 
was wonderful how much fun they had among 
themselves. 

But Hjalmar went to the fowl-house, opened the 
door, and called to the stork; which hopped out to 
him on to the deck. 

By this time he had rested, and it seemed as if he 
nodded at Hjalmar, to thank him. Then he spread 
his wings and flew away to the warm countries; 
but the fowls cackled, the ducks quacked, and the 
turkey-cock became fiery red in the face. 

“To-morrow we shall make soup of you,” said 
Hjalmar; and then he awoke to find himself lying 
in his little bed. 

Ole Luk-Oie had taken him for a wonderful jour- 
ney that night. 


Thursday. 

I will tell you something,” said Ole Luk-Oie. 
Don’t be afraid, I will show you a little mouse,” 
and he held out his hand with the pretty little crea- 


100 


ANDERSEN^S TALES, 


ture. ‘‘ It has come to invite you to a wedding. 
Two little mice are going to be married to-night. 
They live under the floor of your mother’s pantry; 
it is said to be such a nice place to live in ! ” 

“ But how can I get through the little mouse-hole 
in the floor?” asked Hjalmar. 

‘‘I will see to that,” said Ole Luk-Oie. “I can 
manage to make you small enough.” 

And with his magic squirt he touched Hjalmar, 
who at once began to grow smaller and smaller, 
until at last he was scarcely as big as a Anger. 

“ Now you can borrow the tin soldier’s uniform ; 
I think it will At you ; it looks well to wear uni- 
form when one is in society.” 

“Of course,” said Hjalmar. 

And in a moment he was dressed like the smart- 
est of tin soldiers. 

“Will you be so kind as to take a seat in your 
mamma’s thimble?” said the mouse; “I shall then 
have the honor of drawing you.” 

“Oh, dear! are you going to take this trouble 
yourself, little miss?” said Hjalmar. 

Then they drove to the mouse’s wedding. They 
passed first through a long passage beneath the 
floor, which was only just high enough to drive 
through in a thimble ; and the whole passage was 
lit up with phosphorescent wood. 

“Doesn’t it smell nice here?” said the mouse, 
who was drawing the thimble. “The whole pas- 
sage has been greased with bacon fat ; it could not 
be more exquisite.” 



102 


ANDERSEN^S TALES, 


Then they came into the bridal hall. On the 
right hand stood all the little lady mice ; and they 
whispered and giggled as if they were making fun 
of one another ; on the left stood all the gentlemen 
mice, stroking their whiskers with their fore-paws; 
and in the centre of the hall you could see the bride 
and bridegroom, standing in a hollow cheese, and 
kissing one another terribly before all the guests; 
for it had been a long engagement, and now they 
were about to be married. 

More and more guests arrived, until the mice 
were nearly treading one another to death. The 
bridal pair had stationed themselves just in the 
doorway, so that one could neither come in nor go 
out. Like the passage, the floor had been greased 
with bacon fat, and that was the whole of the feast ; 
but for dessert they produced a pea on which a 
mouse belonging to the family had bitten the name 
of the bridal pair — that is to say, the first letter of 
the name: it was something quite extraordinary. 

All the mice said it was a beautiful wedding, and 
that the entertainment had been very enjoyable. 

So Hjalmar drove home again. He had been in 
very distinguished society ; but he had been obliged 
to shrink together to make himself small, and to 
put on the tin soldier’s uniform. 


OLE LUK-OIE. 


103 


Friday. 

“ It is wonderful how many grown-up people there 
are who would be glad to get hold of me ! ” said 
Ole Luk-Oie; “especially those who have done 
something wrong. ‘ Good little Ole, ’ they say to 
me, ‘we cannot close our eyes: we lie the whole 
night and see all our evil deeds, which sit on the 
bedstead like ugly little goblins, and squirt hot wa- 
ter over us ; do please come and drive them away, 
so that we may have a good sleep — we should really 
be glad to pay for it. Good-night, Ole ; the money 
lies on the window-sill.’ But I won’t do it for 
money,” said Ole Luk-Oie. 

“ What are we going to do to-night? ” 

“ Well, I don’t know if you care to go to another 
wedding again to-night. It is different from yes- 
terday’s; your sister’s big doll, the one that looks 
like a man, and is called Hermann, is going to 
marry the doll Bertha. Besides, it is the doll’s 
birthday, and there will be a great many presents.” 

“Yes, I know all about that,” replied Hjalmar. 
“ Whenever the dolls want new clothes, my sister 
lets them either keep their birthdays or have a wed- 
ding; it has happened at least a hundred times.” 

“Yes, but to-night is the hundred-and-first wed- 
ding; and when the hundred-and-first is over, it is 
all over; and that is why this one will be so splen- 
did. Jusklook!” 

And Hjalmar looked at the table. .There stood 


104 


ANDERSEN TALES, 


the little cardboard house with the windows illu- 
minated, and in front of it all the tin soldiers were 
presenting arms. The bride and bridegroom sat on 
the floor, leaning against the leg of the table ; they 
were quite thoughtful, as they had good reason to 
be. And Ole Luk-Oie, dressed up in the grand- 
mother’s black gown, married them to each other. 

When the ceremony was over, all the pieces of 
furniture joined in the following pretty song, which 
the lead-pencil had written. It went to the tune of 
the soldiers’ tattoo: — 

“ Our song like rustling winds shall sound 
To the bridal pair, who now have bound 
Their future fates together ; 

With a hip, hurrah ! from every side, 

And a merry cheer for groom and bride, 

Though they’re only made of leather! ” 

And then came the presents, but they declined * 
to accept anything eatable, for they were to live on 
love. 

“ Shall we go to a country - house or travel 
abroad?” asked the bridegroom. 

So the swallow, who had travelled much, and 
the old hen in the yard, who had brought up five 
broods of chickens, were both consulted. 

The swallow told them of the beautiful warm 
countries, where the air is mild, and the mountains 
glowed with colors that are quite unknown here. 

‘‘ But have you not met our Savoy cabbage? ” said 
the hen. ‘‘I was lying one summer in the country 


OLE LUK-OIE, 


105 


with all my little ones : there was a gravel-pit, in 
which we could go about and scratch, and we also 
had admission to a garden full of Savoy cabbages. 
Oh ! how green it was ! I cannot imagine anything 
prettier.’’ 

“But one cabbage-stalk resembles another,” said 
the swallow, “ and we often have bad weather here.” 

“Oh! one gets used to that,” said the hen. 

“But it is cold here, and it sometimes freezes.” 

“That is good for the cabbage,” said the hen. 
“Besides, do we not also have warm weather? 
Four years ago did we not have a summer that 
lasted for five weeks? It was so hot here that one 
could scarcely breathe. And then in this country 
we have no poisonous animals, such as they have 
out there, and we are free from robbers. He is a 
villain who does not consider our country the most 
beautiful — he certainly does not deserve to be 
here I ” And then the hen wept, and went on : “I 
also have travelled ; I rode over twelve miles in a 
coop — there is no pleasure at all in travelling ! ” 

“Yes; the hen is a sensible woman,” said the doll 
Bertha. “I don’t think anything of travelling 
among mountains, for it is only going up and com- 
ing down. No; we will move out to the gravel-pit 
and take a walk in the cabbage-garden.” 

And so it was settled. 


106 


ANDEBSEN\8 TALES. 


Saturday. 

“ Am I to hear any more stories now? ’’ asked little 
Hjalmar, as soon as Ole Luk-Oie had put him to 
bed. 

‘‘We have no time for that this evening,’’ said 
Ole Luk-Oie; and he spread his finest umbrella over 
the child. “Now look at these Chinamen.” 

And the whole umbrella looked like a great china 
howl, with blue trees and painted bridges, upon 
which stood little Chinamen, nodding their heads. 

“We must have the whole world nicely cleaned 
up for to-morrow morning,” said Ole, “for it is a 
holiday — it is Sunday. I must go to the church- 
steeple to see that the little church goblins are pol- 
ishing the bells, so that they may sound sweetly. 
I must go out into the fields, and see that the winds 
are blowing the dust from the grass and leaves; 
and — this is the greatest work of all — I must bring 
down all the stars to polish them. I have to num- 
ber each one of them before I take them in my 
apron, and the holes in which they are fixed up 
there must be numbered as well, so that they may 
be put back in their right places, or they would not 
stick firmly, and then we should have too many 
shooting-stars, for they would be dropping down 
one after the other! ” 

“Do you know, Mr. Luk-Oie,” said an old por- 
trait, which hung on the wall in the room where 
Hjalmar slept, “that I am Hjalmar’s great-grand- 


OLE LUK-Om 


107 


father? I am much obliged to you for telling the 
boy stories ; but you must not confuse his ideas. 
The stars cannot be taken down and polished. 
They are spheres, just like our earth, and that is 
just the best thing about them.” 

“I thank you, old grandfather,” said Ole Luk- 
Oie, “I thank you! You are the head of the fam- 
ily, the ancestral head : but I am older than you 1 
I am an old heathen; the Eomans and Greeks 
called me the Dream God. I have been in the 
noblest houses, and am admitted there still. I 
know how to act with great people and with small. 
Now you can tell your story ! ” 

And Ole Luk-Oie took his umbrella, and went 
away. 

‘‘ Well, nowadays, it seems, one may not even 
give an opinion,” grumbled the old portrait. 

And Hjalmar awoke. 

Sunday. 

‘‘Good morning,” said Ole Luk-Oie. 

Hjalmar nodded, and then he ran and turned his 
great-grandfather’s portrait against the wall, so 
that it might not interrupt them, as it had done 
yesterday. 

“Now you must tell me stories about the ‘five 
green peas that lived in a pea-pod,’ and about ‘ the 
cock’s foot that courted the hen’s foot,’ and ‘the 
darning-needle whose manners were so fine that she 
thought herself a sewing-needle.’ ” 


108 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES, 


“One may have too much of a good thing,” said 
Ole Luk-Oie. “You know that I prefer to show 
you something ! I will show you my brother. His 
name also is Ole Luk-Oie, but he never comes to 
anybody but once ; those to whom he comes he takes 
upon his horse, and tells them stories. He only 
knows two : one is so exceedingly beautiful that no 
one in the world can imagine it ; but the other is so 
horrible and dreadful that it cannot be described.” 

And then Ole Luk-Oie lifted little Hjalmar up to 
the window, and said — 

“ There you can see my brother, the Ole Luk-Oie. 
They also call him Death ! Do you see : he does not 
look so terrible as they make him in the picture- 
books, where he is only a skeleton. No; it is silver 
embroidery that he has on his coat; he wears a 
most beautiful hussar’s uniform ; and a mantle of 
black velvet flies behind him over the horse. See 
how he gallops along ! ” 

And Hjalmar saw how this Ole Luk-Oie rode 
along, taking upon his horse young people and old. 

Some of them he put in front of him, and some 
behind ; but he always asked first — 

“How stands the mark-book? ” 

“Well,” they all replied. 

“Yes? — let me see it myself,” he said. 

Then each one had to show him the book, and 
those who had “Very well,” and “Eemarkably 
well,” written in their books, were placed in front 
on his horse, and the pretty story was told to them ; 
while those who had “Middling,” or “Tolerably 


OLE LUK-OIE, 


109 


well,” had to sit behind and hear the hideous one. 
They trembled and wept, and wanted to jump off 
the horse, but this they could not do, for they were 
stuck fast. 

‘‘Death is a most beautiful Ole Luk-Oie,” said 
Hjalmar. “ I am not afraid of him ! ” 

“Nor need you be,” said OleLuk-Oie; “but see 
that you have a good mark-book ! ” 

“Yes, there is something to learn in that,” mut- 
tered the great-grandfather’s portrait. “It is of 
some use to give one’s opinion.” 

And so he was satisfied. 

That, you see, is the story of Ole Luk-Oie; he 
may perhaps tell you some more himself, to-night. 


THE UGLY DUCKLING. 


It was beautiful out in the country, for it was 
summer-time. The cornfields were yellow, the oats 
were green, the hay was put up in stacks. In 
the bright sunshine lay an old country-seat. It 
was as wild a spot as the farthest depths of the 
forest; and here sat a duck on her nest. She had 
nearly hatched out her little ones, but she was 
growing tired, for it had taken her a long time. 
At last one egg after the other began to crack. 
“Peep-peep! ” they cried, for all the yolks had be- 
come living, and were popping their heads out. 

“Quack! quack!” she said, and the little ones 
hurried out as fast as they could, and went peering 
about under the green leaves. “How large the 
world is! ” said all the ducklings, for they had very 
much more room now than when they were lying 
in the egg-shells. 

“Do you think that this is the whole world?” 
said the mother. “No, indeed; it stretches far 
away, right to the other side of the garden. I sup- 
pose you are all here?” she asked, getting up. 
“No, they are not all out: the biggest egg is still 
here; I wonder how long it is going to be? — I am 
getting tired of it,” and then she sat down again. 


THE UGLY DUCKLING. 


Ill 


“Well, how are you getting on?” said an old 
duck who canae to pay her a visit. 

“This egg takes such a long time,” said the duck 
who was sitting. “ It will not crack ; but you should 
see all my little ducklings. They are the prettiest 
little mites that ever were seen — but they are all 
like their father — the good-for-nothing who never 
comes to see me.” 

“Let me see the egg that will not crack,” said 
the old duck. “Let me seethe egg. — Yes; it must 
be a turkey’s egg; you should leave it alone and 
teach the other children to swim.” 

“ Well, I will just sit a little while longer on it,’^ 
said the duck; “I have been sitting so long, I may 
just as well sit out the regulation time of the Zo- 
ological Gardens.” 

“Just as you please,” said the old duck. 

At last the large egg cracked. “Peep! peep!’^ 
said the young one, as he waddled out. 

The duck looked at him. “Well, this is a terri- 
bly big Duckling,” she said; “none of the others 
look like him; can it really be a young turkey? 
Well, we shall soon see. Into the water he must 
go, even if I have to push him in myself.” 

The next day was bright and beautiful, and the 
mother with the whole family went down to the 
canal. Splash! down she went into the water. 
“Quack! quack! ” she said, and one duckling after 
the other tumbled in. The water went over their 
heads, but they soon came up again, and swam 
capitally, their legs seeming to move of themselves. 


112 ANDEESEN'S TALES. 

They were all in the water, even the ugly gray 
Duckling. 

“No, this is not a turkey,’’ she said; “see how 
nicely he uses his legs, how gracefully he carries 
himself. He is my own child ; in fact, he is rather 
handsome when you come to look at him. Quack ! 
quack ! now come along with me, and I will take 
you out into the world, and introduce you to the 
poultry -yard.” 

But all the other ducks in the yard looked at 
them, and said quite distinctly: “Well, now we 
are going to have this new lot, too — as if there 
were not enough of us already. Oh ! look at that 
ugly Duckling — we won’t stand him ! ” And one of 
the ducks flew at him and bit him. 

“Let him alone,” said his mother; “he is not 
doing any harm to any one.” 

“But he is so big and uncommon,” said the duck 
that had bitten him ; “ so he must be knocked about 
a little.” 

“ Those children of yours are very pretty, moth- 
er,” said the old duck with the red rag round her 
leg. “They are all pretty, except one; he is a fail- 
ure.” 

“ I dare say he will grow handsome in time, and 
no doubt he will get smaller. He has been lying too 
long in the egg ; that is why his shape is not quite 
right.” So she scratched his neck and stroked him 
all over. 

“ The other ducklings are pretty enough,” said the 
old duck; “just make yourself at home.” 






. 




114 


ANDERSEN TALES, 


So they made themselves at home ; but the poor 
Duckling that came out of the last egg, and looked 
so ugly, was beaten, knocked about, and sneered at 
by the ducks and the fowls. “He is too big,’’ they 
all said, and the turkey-cock, puffed himself out 
like a ship in full sail, and went straight up to the 
duckling and gobbled until he was quite red in 
the face. The poor Duckling did not know whether 
to stand still or walk away. He felt quite miser- 
able, because he was so ugly. 

Thus the first day went by, and afterward it be- 
came worse and worse. The poor duckling was 
driven about by every one ; even his brothers and 
sisters were angry with him, and said frequently : 
“If only the cat would take you, you silly thing! ” 
And the mother duck said : “ If only you were far 
away I ” And the ducks bit him, and the chickens 
pecked at him, and the girl who fed the poultry 
kicked at him with her foot. One day he flew over 
the fence, and even the little birds in the bush were 
frightened away. “It is because I am so ugly,” 
thought the Duckling, and he shut his eyes; but 
he ran on all the same, until he came to the big 
moor where the wild ducks lived. 

“Where do you come from?” they asked. “You 
are uncommonly ugly,” said the wild ducks, “but 
that is no matter, so long as you don’t marry into 
our family.” 

Poor thing! he had no thought of getting mar- 
ried; if only they would allow him to lie in the 
rushes and drink a little of the marsh water. 


THE UGLY DUCKLING. 


115 


“Look here,” they said, “you are so ugly that 
we have taken a fancy to you. Would you like to- 
come along with us and become a bird -of -passage? 
On the next moor, not far from here, there are 
some lovely wild geese, all unmarried, and they can 
all say ‘ hiss ! hiss ! ’ Although you are so ugly, it 
would be a chance of making your fortune.” 

Bang! bang! sounded in the air; the two gan- 
ders fell down amongst the rushes, and the water 
became blood -red. Again came the sound — bang! 
bang! and the whole flock of wild geese flew up 
from the reeds. Then there was another report. 
It was a large shooting part}^ and the sportsmen 
were lying all round the moor, while some of them 
were sitting on the branches of trees that overhung 
the rushes. The blue smoke rose in clouds through 
the dark trees and floated away across the water. 

It was late in the day before things began to get 
quiet, but the poor Duckling did not dare to move. 
He waited for several hours before he began to look 
around, and then he hurried away from the moor 
as fast as he could. Over fields and meadows he 
ran, but as it was windy it was difficult for him to 
get along. Toward evening he reached a humble 
little cottage ; it was so dilapidated that it did not 
know on which side to fall, and therefore it contin- 
ued to stand up. 

The wind was whistling around the Duckling, 
and he was obliged to sit down in order not to be 
blown away. The weather was getting worse and 
worse, when he suddenly noticed that the door of 


116 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


the cottage had broken away from one of its 
hinges, and hung so crookedly that he could just 
creep through the crack into the room. 

Here lived an old woman with her Cat and her 
Hen. The Cat, which she called Sonny, could arch 
his back, and purr, and could even give out sparks, 
but only when you stroked him the wrong way. 
The Hen had small stumpy legs, and therefore they 
called her Chick-a-biddy Shortshanks. She laid 
plenty of eggs, and the old woman loved her as her 
own child. 

In the morning the strange Duckling was at 
once discovered, and the Cat began to purr and the 
Hen to cackle. 

“What is the matter?” said the old woman, 
peering around, and as she did not see well, she 
thought that the Duckling was a fat duck that had 
gone astray. “ This is a capital find,” she thought ; 
“now I shall have ducks’ eggs, if only it is not a 
drake — but that we must find out.” So the Duck- 
ling was put on a trial for three weeks, but no eggs 
came. 

The Cat was master of the house and the Hen 
was mistress, and so they always said: “We and 
the world ”; for they considered that they were half 
the world, and the better half. The Duckling 
thought that others might have a different opinion, 
but the Hen would not agree with this. “ Can you 
lay eggs?” she asked. “No — well, then, you will 
have to hold your tongue.” 

And the Cat said : “ Can you arch your back, or 



118 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


purr, or give out sparks? No — well, then, you must 
not have an opinion when other people talk ” ; and 
the Duckling sat in a corner in a bad temper. 
Then he began to think of the fresh air and the 
sunshine, and felt a strange longing to fly out over 
the water. At last he could keep it to himself no 
longer : he had to tell the Hen about it. 

‘‘ What is the matter with you? ’’ she said ; “you 
have nothing to do — that is why you get such fan- 
cies into your head. If you could lay an egg, or 
purr, it would be all right.” 

“But it is so lovely to swim on the water,” said 
the Duckling, “so nice to feel the water close 
over your head when you plunge down to the bot- 
tom ! ” 

“A real pleasure that must be!” said the Hen; 
“you are certainly going mad! Just ask the Cat, 
who is the wisest person I know, if he likes to float 
on the water or plunge below — I say nothing of my 
own opinion. Or ask our mistress, if she would 
like to float on the water or feel it closing over her 
head ? ” 

“You don’t understand me,” said the Duckling. 

“ Well, if we don’t understand you, I should like 
to know who would. You don’t mean to say that 
you are wiser than the Cat and the old woman, not 
to mention myself? 

“I think I will go out into the wide world,” said 
the Duckling. 

“Yes, do!” said the Hen. So the Duckling 
went. He floated on the water, and dived be- 


THE UGLY DUCKLING. 


119 


neath, but he was avoided by all other animals, 
because of his ugliness. 

One evening, as the sun was setting, a whole flight 
of beautiful great birds rose out of the bushes. The 
Duckling had never seen anything so pretty as these 
birds, which were shining white, and had long, 
slender necks. They were swans, and they uttered 
a peculiar cry as they spread their broad wings 
and flew away to warmer climes, across the wide 
seas. They rose very high in the air, and the 
ugly Duckling felt quite a strange sensation as he 
watched them. 

He whirled round and round in the water like 
a wheel, stretched his neck after them high up in 
the air, and uttered a cry, so loud and strange that 
he frightened himself. 

And the winter grew very cold ! The duckling 
had to swim about in the water so as to keep him- 
self from freezing, and every night the hole in 
which he was swimming became smaller and 
smaller. It was freezing so hard that the ice 
cracked ; and the duckling had to move his legs 
constantly to and fro to prevent the water from 
freezing up altogether. At last he became ex- 
hausted, and lay quite still, and so he froze fast 
into the ice. 

Early in the morning a peasant came along and 
saw him. He went out to the duckling, knocked 
a hole in the ice with his wooden shoe, and took 
him home to his wife. 

Here he was brought to life again. The children 


120 


ANDERSEN'S TALES. 


wanted to play with him, but the Duckling thought 
they might hurt him, and in his fright he flew into 
the milk-basin, and the milk was spilt all over the 
floor. The woman screamed and threw her hands 
up in the air ; then he flew down into the butter- 
tub, from there to the meal-barrel, and out again. 
What a state he was in! The woman screamed 
and struck him with the fire-irons, the children 
tumbled over one another in trying to catch the 
poor Duckling, and they laughed and shouted. 
Luckily the door was open, and out he flew through 
the bushes, down on to the newly fallen snow. 

One day, as he was lying on the moor among the 
rushes, the sun again began to shine warmly ; the 
larks were singing ; the beautiful spring had come ! 

All at once he lifted his wings : they beat the air 
more strongly than before, and bore him easily 
aloft. Before he knew what had happened, he 
found himself in a large garden where the apple- 
trees stood in bloom, and where sweet-scented clus- 
ters of lilac hung on the long green boughs, bending 
down toward the winding river. It was delightful 
here, on this beautiful spring day; and suddenly 
through the thicket came three beautiful white 
swans. They preened their feathers, and floated 
gently on the water. The Duckling recognized the 
beautiful creatures, and was overcome by a strange 
feeling of sadness. 

“I will fly over to them, those royal birds, and 
they will kill me, because I, who am so ugly, dare 
to approach them. But after all, it is better to be 


THE TJGLJ DUCKLING. 


121 


killed by them than to be bitten by the ducks, 
pecked by the chickens, kicked by the maid who 
looks after the poultry-yard, and suffer misery in 
the winter.” So he flew down into the water and 
swam toward the beautiful swans. They looked at 
him, and drifted toward him, with outspread wings. 

“ Kill me ! ” said the poor creature, and bent his 
head down toward the surface of the water, await- 
ing death. But what did he see in the clear w^ater? 
He saw his own image, but he was no longer a 
clumsy, dark gray bird, ugly and hateful : he was 
himself a swan! It does not matter if one is 
brought up among the ducks so long as one is 
hatched from a swan’s egg. 

The large swans swam round him and stroked 
him with their beaks. Into the garden came some 
little children. They threw bread and corn into 
the water, and the smallest of them cried : ‘‘ There 
is a new one ! ” and the other children shouted 
joyously: ‘‘Yes, a new one has arrived and they 
clapped their hands, and danced round and round 
their father and mother, throwing bread-crumbs 
and biscuits into the river. 

“The new one is the prettiest,” they said; “he 
is so young and so lovely.” And the old swans 
bowled to him ; and the lilac bowed down its branches 
to him, and the sun shone warm and bright. Then 
he rustled his feathers, curved his slender neck, and 
cried joyfully from the depths of his heart: “I 
never dreamed of so much happiness when I was 
only The Ugly Duckling 1 ” 


LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS. 


There lived two men in a village, and they had 
the same name — both were called Claus; but one 
had four horses, and the other only one. To dis- 
tinguish them, they called the one who had four 
horses. Big Claus, and the one who had only one 
horse. Little Claus. 

The whole week through, Little Claus had to 
plough for Big Claus, and lend him his one horse; 
then Big Claus would help him in return, with his 
four horses, but only once a week, and that was on 
the Sunday. Hurrah ! how Little Claus cracked 
his whip over all the five horses, for on that one 
day they were as good as his own ! He was 
so pleased that he cried out: ‘‘Gee up, all my 
horses ! ’’ 

“Now I must warn you not to say that again,” 
said Big Claus, “for if you do, I shall hit your 
horse on the head, so that he will fall down dead 
on the spot, and there will be an end of him.” 

“No; I will not say it any more,” said Little 
Claus. But when the people passed by, and nod- 
ded “good day” to him, he was so pleased, he 
again called out : “ Gee up, all my horses ! ” 

“ITl ‘ gee up ’ your horses! ” said Big Claus, and 


LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS. 123 


he took a club, and hit Little Claus’s only horse on 
the head so that it fell down dead. 

‘‘Alas! now I have no horse at all,” said Little 
Claus, and began to cry. Then he flayed the horse 
and took the hide, let it dry well in the wind, put 
it in a bag, which he hung over his shoulder, and 
went to town to sell the skin. 

He had a long way to go, and had to pass 
through a great wood, and as the weather grew 
very bad, he lost his way altogether. Before he 
found it again, night began to fall, and it was 
too late to go to the town, or return home again. 

Close by the road stood a large farmhouse. 

Close by stood a large haystack, and between this 
and the house there was a little shed with a flat 
thatched roof. Claus crept up to the roof of the 
shed, where he lay down and made himself com- 
fortable. 

The window shutters did not close at the top, so 
he could see into the room. The farmer’s wife and 
the sexton sat at the table, but nobody else; she 
was handing the food to him, and he was enjoying 
the fish, for this was a dish of which he was fond. 

All of a sudden he heard somebody riding along 
the high-road toward the house ; it was the farmer 
coming home. 

When they heard the husband coming, they were 
greatly alarmed, and the wife asked the sexton to 
hide himself in a big empty chest, which was stand- 
ing in a corner and quickly put the wine and all the 
dainty dishes into the oven. 


124 


ANDERSEN^S TALES, 


“ Oh, dear ! ” sighed Little Claus on the roof, 
when he saw all the dishes carried away. 

“Is there anybody up there?” asked the farmer. 

So little Claus told him how he had lost his way, 
and asked permission to stay overnight. 

“ Yes, certainly,” said the farmer; “but we must 
first have something to eat.” 

The farmer’s wife spread the cloth on the table 
and gave them a large dish of porridge. The far- 
mer was hungry, and ate with good appetite, but 
Little Claus could not help thinking of the fine 
roast meat, the fish, and the cake, which he knew 
were standing in the oven. 

He had put his bag, containing the horsehide, 
under the table at his feet. 

He did not like the porridge, so he trod on 
the bag, and the dry skin inside crackled loudly. 

“Be quiet! ” said Little Claus to the sack. 

“Hullo! what have you in your sack? ” asked the 
farmer. 

“Oh! it is a conjurer,” said Little Claus. “He 
says that we oughtn’t to eat porridge, for he has 
conjured the oven full of roast meat. 

“What do you mean?” said the farmer, and 
opened the oven -door in a hurry. There he saw the 
fine dishes which the wife had hidden away. 

The woman dared not say anything, and at once 
put the dishes on the table ; so they made a meal of 
the fish, the roast meat, and the cake. 

Soon afterward. Little Claus trod on the bag 
again, so that the hide crackled. 





126 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


“ What does he say now? ” asked the farmer. 

“He says,” replied Little Claus, “that he has 
conjured three bottles of wine for us, and they also 
are standing in the oven ! ” 

Then the wife had to take out the wine, which she 
had hidden, and the farmer drank, and grew merry. 

“ Can he also call up the Evil One himself? ” said 
the farmer. “I should like to see him.” 

“Oh, yes,” said Little Claus; “my conjurer can 
do anything that I ask. But the Evil One is very 
ugly to look at, so we had better not see him ! ” 

“Oh! I am not at all afraid,” said the farmer. 

“ Well, he will appear in the shape of a sexton.” 

“Ugh!” exclaimed the farmer, “that is dread- 
ful, for I cannot bear the sight of a sexton.” 

“ Well, I will now ask my conjurer,” said Little 
Claus, who trod on the sack, bent down, and pre- 
tended to listen. 

“What does he say? ” 

“He says that you may go over and open the 
chest that is standing in the corner; you will then 
see the Evil One crouching down, but you must 
hold the lid so that he doesn’t slip out.” 

The farmer opened the lid a little, and peeped 
into the chest. 

“ Ugh ! ” he cried, and sprang backward. “ Well, 
now I have seen him — he was exactly like the sex- 
ton at our church.” 

“You must sell me that conjurer,” said the far- 
mer; “I will give you a whole bushel of money.” 

“No, I cannot take it,” said Little Claus. 


LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS, 127 


“But I should so very much like to have him,’^ 
said the farmer, and he went on begging. 

“ Well,” said Little Claus at last, “you shall have 
the conjurer for a bushel of money.” 

“You shall have it,” said the farmer; “but as 
for that chest over there, you must take it away 
with you — I will not have it in my house.” 

Little Claus gave the farmer the sack contain- 
ing the dried hide, and received in return a bushel 
brimful of money. 

On the far side of the forest was a wide and deep 
river. They had built a fine new bridge over it. 

Little Claus stopped at the middle of the bridge, 
and said quite loudly, so that the sexton in the 
chest should hear : “ Now, what am I to do with this 
stupid chest? It is as heavy as if there were stones 
in it, so I’ll just throw it into the river.” 

“No! don’t!” cried the sexton inside. 

“Ugh!” exclaimed Little Claus, pretending to 
be frightened. “So he is still inside!” 

“Oh! no! no!” cried the sexton; “I will give 
you a whole bushel of money if you will let me go ! ” 

“Ah! that’s a different thing,” said Little Claus, 
and opened the chest. The sexton at once crept 
out, pushed the empty chest into the river, and 
went home, where he gave Little Claus a whole 
bushel of money. 

“Well, I am very well paid for that horse,” he 
said to himself, when he came home. 

Then he sent a man to Big Claus, to borrow a 
bushel measure. 


128 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


“ What can he want with it? ” thought Big Claus; 
and he smeared some tar on the bottom of the 
bushel. 

When the bushel came back, there were three 
new sixpenny-pieces at the bottom of it. 

‘‘What is this?’’ said Big Claus, and ran off at 
once to Little Claus. “ Where did you get all this 
money from? ” 

“Oh! I got it for my horse’s skin, which I sold 
last night.” 

“ That is a very good price, ” said Big Claus. So he 
ran home, seized an axe, and killed all his four horses, 
took the skins off them, and drove into the town. 

“Hides! hides! Who will buy hides?” he cried 
through the streets. 

All the shoemakers and tanners came running 
up to him, and asked him his price. 

“A bushel of money for each,” said Big Claus. 

“He wants to make fools of us,” they all said, 
and the shoemakers took their straps, and the tan- 
ners their leathern aprons, and they beat Big Claus. 

And Big Claus had to run as fast as he could, for 
he had never had such a thrashing before. 

“Well,” he said, when he came home, “Little 
Claus shall pay for this. I will kill him.” 

Now, Little Claus’s old grandmother had just 
died. She had always been very harsh and unkind 
to him, but nevertheless, he was very sorry, and he 
took the dead woman and laid her in his own warm 
bed, to see if she would not come to life again. 

As he was sitting there in the night, the door 


t 



/ 






130 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


opened, and Big Claus came in with his axe. He 
knew quite well where Little Claus’s bed was; so 
he went straight up to it, and hit the dead grand- 
mother, thinking that she was Little Claus. 

‘‘He is a bad, wicked man,” said Little Claus. 

He then dressed the old grandmother in her Sun- 
day clothes, borrowed a horse from his neighbor, 
harnessed it to a cart, and propped up the old grand- 
mother, so that she could not fall out. 

When the sun rose, they were outside a large inn. 

The inn-keeper had a great deal of money; he 
was also a good-natured fellow, but exceedingly 
hot-tempered. 

“ Good morning,” he said to Little Claus. “ You 
have your Sunday clothes on early to-day.” 

“Yes,” said Little Claus; “I am going to town 
with my old grandmother. She is sitting outside 
in the cart. Take a glass of beer out to her. 
But you must speak very loudly, because she is a 
little hard of hearing.” 

“All right,” said the inn-keeper. 

“Don’t you hear?” cried the inn-keeper, as 
loudly as he could; “here is a glass of beer from 
your grandson ! ” Once more he shouted, and yet 
again ; but as the grandmother did not move, he at 
last got angry, and threw the glass right in her 
face, so that she fell back into the cart. 

“Hullo!” cried Little Claus, running out at the 
door; and he seized hold of the inn-keeper. “You 
have killed my grandmother ! See, there is a big 
wound on her forehead ! ” 


LITTLE GLAUS AND BIG GLAUS, 131 


Oh ! this is indeed a misfortune ! ” cried the 
host. ‘‘ Dear Little Claus, I will give you a whole 
^ bushel of money, if only you will say nothing about 
it; or I shall have my head cut off.” 

When Little Claus came home again with this 
heap of money, he sent to Big Claus, to ask him if 
he could lend him a bushel measure. 

“What is the meaning of this?” said Big Claus; 
“I thought I had killed him! I must really see to 
this myself.” So he went over to Little Claus with 
the bushel. “ Where did you get all this money 
from? ” he asked, opening his eyes wide. 

“It was my grandmother, and not me, that you 
killed,” said Little Claus; “now I have sold her, 
and got a bushel of money for her.” 

“That was a very good price,” said Big Claus; 
and hurried back home, took his axe, and killed his 
own grandmother, put her in a cart, drove to town, 
where the druggist lived. 

“ It is my grandmother,” said Big Claus ; “ I have 
killed her to get a bushel of money for her.” 

“Heaven save us!” said the druggist; “you are 
raving ! ” and he told him earnestly what a wicked 
deed he had done. 

“I shall pay you for this! ” said Big Claus, as he 
drove along the road; “I shall pay you for this. 
Little Claus! ” As soon as he came home, he took 
the biggest sack he could find, went over to Little 
Claus, and put him in the sack, and said; “Now 
I am going to drown you ! ” 

It was a good long way before they came to the 


132 


ANDERSEN’S TALES, 


river, and Little Claus was not very light to carry. 
The road led past the church ; the organ was play- 
ing, and the people were singing beautifully; so^ 
Big Claus put down the sack, with Little Claus in 
it, by the church door, and in he went. 

Just then there came along an old drover with 
snow-white hair, carrying a big stick in his hand. 
He was driving a whole herd of oxen. 

“Oh, dear,” sighed Little Claus; “I am so very 
young, to be going to Heaven.” 

“And I, poor thing,” said the ox-driver, “I am 
so old, and have not got there yet.” 

“Open the sack,” cried Little Claus, “and creep 
into it in my place; go to Heaven at once.” 

“Well, I should very much like to, indeed,” said 
the drover, and opened the sack for Little Claus. 

“Please to take care of the cattle,” said the old 
man, and crept into the sack. 

A little while afterward. Big Claus came out of 
the church, and threw the sack again over his 
shoulder. 

“How light he seems now: that must be because 
I have heard a psalm.” So he went to the river, 
which was deep and wide, and threw the sack with 
the old drover into the water. 

Then he went toward home, but when he came 
to the crossing of the roads, he met Little Claus. 

“What is this?” cried Big Claus; “have I not 
drowned you? ” 

“Yes,” said Little Claus; “you threw me into 
the river half an hour ago.” 


LITTLE CLAUS AND BIG CLAUS. 133 


“But where did you get all these fine cattle 
from ? ” asked Big Claus. 

“ They are sea-cattle ; but first I thank you very 
much for having drowned me, for now .that I 
have come up again, I am quite rich. It is very 
pretty down there, with flowers and the freshest 
grass.” 

“But why did you come back here so soon?” 
asked Big Claus. 

“Oh!” said Little Claus; “I was very artful 
about that. You remember, a mermaid told me 
that a mile up the river there was a herd of cattle 
for me. But the river makes several bends, and 
that is why I’ve come up on land, for by crossing 
over from one bend of the river to the other, I save 
nearly half a mile.” 

“Oh, you are a lucky fellow,” said Big Claus. 
“ Do you think that I could get sea-cattle, too, if I 
went down to the bottom of the river? ” 

“Well, I should think so,” said Little Claus; 
“but I cannot carry you in the sack, for you are 
too heavy. You must go down there yourself.” 

“Thank you very much,” said Big Claus; “but 
if I do not get any sea-cattle when I get down 
there, I shall give you a thrashing.” 

When the cattle, which were thirsty, saw the 
river, they ran as fast as they could to the water. 

“See how they hurry! ” said Little Claus; “they 
long to get down to the bottom of the river.” 

“Yes, but help me first,” said Big Claus, “or I 
will thrash you; ” and he crept into a big sack. 


134 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES, 


‘‘All right,” said Little Claus, and he put a big 
stone in the sack, and pushed him over. 

Splash ! ’went Big Claus into the river, and sank. 
“I am afraid he will never find the cattle,” said 
Little Claus; and then he drove home with his own 
herd. 



‘THE FAHIME R TH ! N LS • H E- SLESTHEBE VI L “ J 
•INTHL CHEJST(t^ 


THE LITTLE MEEMAID. 


Far out iu the ocean the water is as blue as the 
loveliest corn-flower, and as clear as the purest crys- 
tal; but it is very deep— and down there live the 
sea-folk. 

The Sea-King down there had for many years 
been a widower, and his old mother kept house for 
him. She was a sensible old lady, but very proud 
of her noble birth, on account of which she always 
wore twelve oysters on her tail, whereas others of 
high rank were allowed to wear only six. Other- 
wise, she deserved great praise, especially for the 
love she bore toward the little sea-princesses, her 
grand-daughters. 

There were six of them — beautiful children, but 
the youngest was the prettiest of them all. 

Nothing pleased her more than to hear about the 
world above the sea. She made the old grand- 
mother tell her everything she knew about the 
ships, and the towns, the people, and the animals. 

“ When you are fifteen years old,” said the grand- 
mother, ‘‘I will let you go up to the surface, and 
sit on the rocks in the moonlight, and see the great 
ships that go sailing by. Then you will see forests 
and towns.” 


136 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES, 


Now, the eldest princess had just reached her fif- 
teenth year, and had been up to the surface. When 
she came back, she had hundreds of things to tell ; 
but the most delightful thing, she said, was to lie 
on the sand-bank in the moonlight, by the calm sea, 
and look at the great town on the shore, the many 
church towers and spires, and hear the ringing of 
the bells. 

The next year the second sister received permis- 
sion to visit the surface of the water and swim 
wherever she pleased. She rose up just as the sun 
was setting, and this, she thought, was the most 
beautiful sight of all. 

The next year the third sister came up ; she was 
the boldest of them all, for she swam all the way 
up a broad river that was flowing into the sea. 

In a little bay she found a number of children, 
who, quite naked, were running about and splash- 
ing in the water; she wanted to play with them, 
but they ran away quite frightened. Then there 
came a little black animal: it was a dog, but she 
had never seen a dog before, and it barked so furi- 
ously at her that she became frightened, and swam 
back again to the open sea. But never could she 
forget the beautiful forests, the green hills, and the 
pretty children who could swim in the water, al- 
though they had no fish-tails. 

The fourth sister was not so bold ; she stayed out 
in the open sea, and declared that that was the most 
beautiful place of all. Now came the turn of the 
fifth sister. Her birthday fell in the winter, and 





138 


ANDERSEN’S TALES, 


she saw what the others had not seen on their first 
visit. The sea seemed quite green, and in all di- 
rections large icebergs were floating about. She 
seated herself on one of the largest, but all the 
ships steered away in terror from the iceberg where 
she sat, her long hair floating in the wind. 

When the sisters in the evening floated up arm- 
in-arm through the sea, their little sister used to 
stand quite alone, looking after them. 

“Oh! were I but fifteen years old!” she cried; 
“I know that I should love the world above, and 
the people who live there.” 

At last she reached her fifteenth year. “ Well, 
now, you are of age,” said her grandmother, 
“come, let me dress you prettily like your other 
sisters,” and so she put a wreath of white lilies in 
her hair, hut each petal in the flower was a half- 
pearl, and the old lady caused eight large oysters 
to cling to the princess’s tail, as a sign of high 
rank. 

“ They hurt me ! ” cried the little mermaid. 

“One must suffer for one’s pride,” said the old 
lady. 

“Good-by,” she said, and as light and as clear 
as a bubble she rose up through the sea. 

The sun had just set as she raised her head above 
the surface. There lay a great ship. There was 
music and singing, and as the evening grew darker, 
hundreds of bright-colored lanterns were lit; it 
seemed as if the flags of all nations were fluttering 
in the air. The little mermaid swam close up to 


THE LITTLE MERMAID. 


139 


the cabin window, and now and then, as the waves 
lifted her up, she looked in through the clear glass 
panes, and saw a great many well-dressed people. 
But the handsomest amongst them was the young 
Prince with the large black eyes. It was his birth- 
day, and that was the reason of all this festivity. 

It was getting late, but the little mermaid coi\ld 
not take her eyes away from the ship and the beau- 
tiful Prince. The brightly colored lanterns were 
put out, and the ship began to move faster, and 
one sail after the other was unfurled. Then the 
waves rose high, heavy clouds came up, and light- 
ning flashed in the far distance. The huge ship 
creaked, the thick planks gave way under the thud 
of the waves, while the water rushed in. 

Now the little mermaid saw that the ship was in 
danger, and she herself had carefully to avoid the 
wreckage. Each was struggling as best he could, 
but she was searching for the young Prince, and as 
the ship broke up, she saw him sinking into the 
depths of the sea. 

At first she was delighted, but then she remem- 
bered that human beings cannot survive in the 
water. No! no! he must not die! — so she swam 
among the wreckage that was drifting about, till 
at last she came to the young Prince, who was 
swimming in the raging sea. His limbs began to 
fail him, his eyes were closing; and he would 
surely have died had not the little mermaid come 
to his aid. She held his head above the water, and 
let the waves carry her and him. 


140 


ANDEBSEN^S TALES. 


In the morning the storm was over, but of the 
ship not a trace could be seen. The sun rose red 
and glowing from the sea, and its rays seemed to 
bring back the hue of life to the Prince’s cheeks, 
but still his eyes remained closed. The mermaid 
kissed his fair high forehead, and stroked back the 
wet hair. 

in the distance she could see the shore. Along 
the coast were beautiful green forests, and nestling 
among them lay a church or a convent. She swam 
thither with the Prince, and laid him on the sand. 

The bells began ringing in the great white build- 
ing, and a number of young girls came out to walk 
in the garden. So the little mermaid swam farther 
out, and hid herself ; then she watched to see who 
would come to find the poor Prince. 

Before long a young girl approached. She seemed 
frightened at first, but only for a moment, for she 
ran to fetch some one else, and the mermaid saw how 
the Prince was brought to life, and how he smiled 
on all around. She felt very sorrowful, and when 
he was carried into the great house, she dived be- 
neath the waves, back to her father’s palace. Her 
sisters asked her what she had seen, but she told 
them nothing. At last she could keep her secret 
no longer ; she told it to one of her sisters, who told 
it to the rest ; but no one else knew of it, save one 
or two other mermaids, who told it only to their 
dearest friends. One of these knew who the Prince 
was, and whence he came, and where his kingdom 
lay. 


THE LITTLE MERMAID. 


141 


The little mermaid now knew where he lived, 
and thither she rose, many an evening and many a 
night, from the depths of the sea. 

Day by day human beings became more dear to 
her — more and more she wished that she could go 
up and live among them — their world seemed to her 
so much larger than her own. “If human beings 
are not drowned,” asked the little mermaid, “do 
they never die, as we die down here in the sea? ” 

“Yes,” replied the old lady, “they die, and their 
lifetime is shorter than ours. We mer-people live 
three hundred years, but when we cease to exist, 
we become merely foam on the sea. We have not 
an immortal soul: for us there is no life hereafter.” 

“Why did we not receive immortal souls?” 
asked the little mermaid. “Can I do nothing to 
win an immortal soul? ” 

“No,” said the old lady, “not unless a human 
being were to love you — love you so dearly that 
you should be more to him even than father or 
mother.” 

“While my sisters are dancing in my father’s 
palace, I will go to the sea-witch whom I have al- 
ways feared so much. She may be able to help me. ” 

The little mermaid went out of her garden tow- 
ard the foaming whirlpools behind which the sea- 
witch had her home. “I know exactly what you 
want,” said the sea-witch; “it is very stupid of 
you, for it will bring you misfortune. You would 
like to get rid of your fish-tail, and have two 
stumps to walk on, like the human beings, so that 


142 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


the young Prince may fall in love with you, and 
you may win him and an immortal soul ; ’’ and the 
witch laughed loudly and horribly. “You have 
come just at the right time, for after sunrise to- 
morrow I should have been unable to help you for 
another year. I will make you a potion, and be- 
fore the sun rises you must swim with it to the 
shore, sit down on the beach, and drink it. Your 
fish-tail will then shrink and become what the peo- 
ple of earth call legs ; but the change will be very 
painful, and you will feel as if you were being 
stabbed with a sharp sword. 

“But remember,” said the witch, “when once you 
have received a human form, you can never become 
a mermaid again ; you can never dive down through 
the water to your sisters, and if you do not succeed 
in winning the love of the Prince, you can never 
receive an immortal soul. The day after he is mar- 
ried to another, your heart will break, and you will 
become nothing but foam on the sea.” 

“I am willing! ” said the little mermaid. 

“ But I must be paid, ” said the witch. “ You have 
the most beautiful voice of all down here in the 
depths of the sea, and with this you think to charm 
the Prince; but this voice you must give to me; 
the best thing you possess I must have for my 
costly draught.” 

“But when you take my voice,” said the little 
mermaid, “what is left to me? ” 

“Your beautiful figure,” said the witch, “your 
graceful carriage, and your eloquent eyes, and with 


THE LITTLE MERMAID. 


143 


these you can surely bewitch a man’s heart. Well, 
have you lost your courage? Put out your little 
tongue so that I can cut it off in payment, and then 
I will give you the magic draught.” 

“Be it so,” said the little mermaid, and the witch 
put her cauldron on the fire to make the magic po- 
tion. When the draught was ready, it looked like 
pure water. “Here it is,” said the witch, and cut 
off the tongue of the little mermaid. 

The sun had not yet risen when she came in sight 
of the Prince’s palace, and mounted the splendid 
marble steps; and the moon was shining brightly 
when the little maid drank the sharp burning 
draught. It was just as if a two-edged sword had 
been driven through her body, and she fainted and 
lay as if dead. When she awoke the sun was shin- 
ing over the water and she felt a sharp pain, but 
just before her stood the handsome young Prince. 
She looked at him sweetly with her deep blue eyes, 
for alas ! she could not speak. He took her by the 
hand and led her to the palace, and at every step 
she felt as if she were walking on pointed needles 
or sharp knives, just as the witch had told her; but 
this she willingly suffered. By the Prince’s side 
she tripped along light as a bubble, and every one 
wondered at her graceful movements. They dressed 
her in costly silk, and in the palace she was the 
most beautiful of them all ; but she was dumb, and 
neither spoke nor sang. Beautiful slaves dressed 
in silver and gold stepped forward and sang to the 
Prince and his royal parents ; one sang sweeter than 


144 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES, 


all the others, and the Prince clapped his hands and 
smiled at her. This made the little mermaid quite 
sad, for she knew she could once have sung far 
more sweetly, and thought, “If only he could know 
that I have given away my voice forever so that I 
might be with him ! ’’ 

The slaves now performed pretty fairy-like dances 
to the sweetest music, and the little mermaid lifted 
up her lovely white arms, and on the tips of her toes 
glided over the floor, dancing as no one had ever 
danced before. With every movement her beauty 
became more striking, and her eyes spoke more elo- 
quently to the heart than the songs of the slaves. 
The Prince was charmed and called her his little 
foundling, and she danced again and again, though 
whenever her foot touched the floor it seemed as if 
she were treading on sharp knives. 

In the Prince’s palace, when all were asleep at 
night, she went out on to the broad marble steps, 
and cooled her burning feet in the cold sea-water, 
thinking the while of those in the depths below. 
One night her sisters came up arm-in-arm. Mourn- 
fully they sang as they floated upon the water ; she 
waved her hand to them, and they recognized her, 
and told her how unhappy she had made them all. 

The Prince loved her as one loves a dear little 
child, but he never thought of making her his 
queen, and did not dream that if she were not, she 
could not win an immortal soul, but would become 
as foam on the sea on the day of his wedding. 

“Do you not love me best of all! ” the little mer- 



146 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


maid’s eyes seemed to say, when he took her in his 
arms and kissed her beautiful forehead. 

“Yes, I love you most dearly,” said the Prince, 
“ for you have the best heart of them all ; you are the 
most devoted to me, and are like a little maid whom 
I once met, but whom I shall never see again. I 
was on a ship that was wrecked ; the waves drove 
me to land near a holy temple, where young girls 
were performing the sacred rites. The youngest 
of them found me on the shore and saved my life ; 
1 saw her only twice, but she is the only one in the 
world I could love, and you are like her, and have 
almost driven her image from my mind.” 

Now, it was rumored that the Prince was about 
to marry the daughter of a neighboring king. “I 
must see this beautiful princess,” he said; “my 
parents desire it, but they do not oblige me to bring 
her back home as my bride, and I cannot love her ; 
she is not like the pretty maiden in the temple 
whom you resemble, and if ever I should choose a 
bride, I would sooner it were you, my dear dumb 
foundling, with your speaking eyes ” ; and he kissed 
her rosy lips, and played with her long hair, while she 
dreamed of human happiness and an immortal soul. 

The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor 
of the neighboring king’s beautiful city. All the 
church bells were ringing, bugles sounded from the 
top of the high towers, while the soldiers down be- 
low stood in their ranks with glittering bayonets 
and flying colors. Every day was a festival, balls 
and entertainments followed one upon the other, 


THE LITTLE MERMAID. 


14T 


but the princess had not yet appeared. At last she 
came ; the little mermaid was there, anxious to see 
whether she really was as beautiful as rumor said ; 
and she could not but acknowledge that she had 
never seen a more lovely being. Her skin was so 
white and clear, and behind her long black eye- 
lashes smiled two faithful deep-blue eyes. 

‘Ht was you,” said the Prince, “you, who saved 
me when I lay dying by the sea-shore,” and he 
folded his blushing bride in his arms. 

“Oh, I am too happy,” he said to the little mer- 
maid ; “ that which I wished for most, but never 
dared to hope for, has come to pass. You will rejoice 
at my happiness, for you love me best of all,” and 
the little mermaid kissed his hand, but she felt as if 
her heart were breaking. 

All was quiet and silent on the ship, the steers- 
man stood at the helm, and the little mermaid laid 
her white arms on the railings and looked toward 
the east watching for the rosy dawn, the first 
beams of which she knew would kill her. Then 
she saw her sisters raise themselves up above the 
sea. They were as pale as she, but their long beau- 
tiful hair floated no more in the wind : it had been 
cut off. “We have given it to the witch,” they 
said, “that we might help you, so that you need 
not die to-night. She has given us a knife : here it 
is — look how sharp it is. Before the sun has risen 
you must thrust it in the Prince’s heart, and when 
his warm blood drops on your feet they will grow 
together to a fish-tail, and you will become a mer- 


148 


ANDERSEN^S TALES, 


maid again, and can dive down into the water with 
us and live your three hundred years, before you 
become as the salt sea foam. Hasten, then; he or 
you must die before sunrise.” 

The little mermaid drew the curtain from the 
tent, and saw the bride sleeping with her head on 
the Prince’s breast: she bowed down, kissed his 
noble forehead, and looked at the sky, where the 
dawn grew more and more bright ; looked at the 
sharp knife, and then looked again at the Prince, 
who in his dream called his bride by name. She 
only was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in 
the mermaid’s hand; but she threw it far away out 
into the waves, which shone quite red where it fell, 
and the drops that spurted from the water looked 
like blood. Once more she cast a dying glance at 
the Prince ; then she threw herself from the ship 
into the waves, where she felt that her body was 
dissolving into foam. 

The sun rose from the waters ; its warm rays fell 
on the cold sea-foam, and the little mermaid felt 
nothing of death. She saw the shining sun, and 
up above her were floating hundreds of beautiful 
beings. The little mermaid felt that she had a 
form like theirs, that she rose higher and higher 
above the foam. 

Where am I going?” she asked, and her voice 
sounded so ethereal that no earthly music could 
compare with it. 

“To the daughters of the air,” they answered. 
“A mermaid has no immortal soul, and can never 


THE LITTLE MER31A1D. 


149 


obtain one unless she win a human being’s love; 
her eternal existence is in the hands of another. 
The daughters of the air likewise have no immortal 
soul, but by good actions they may create one. 
You have striven with all your heart to do the 
same as we. By your sufferings and endurance, 
you have raised yourself to the aerial world; by 
good actions you can in the space of three hundred 
years create an immortal soul.” 

The little mermaid raised her transparent eyes 
toward God’s sun, and, for the first time, shed tears. 

On the ship all was life and noise. She saw the 
Prince and his beautiful bride, who were sadly 
looking for her in the bubbling foam, as if they 
knew she had thrown herself into the waves. Un- 
seen, she kissed the bridegroom’s forehead, smiled 
upon him, and rose with the other children of the 
air to the rosy clouds that were floating in the 
wind. “In three hundred years we may float like 
this into the Kingdom of God.” 

“And maybe even sooner,” whispered one. 
“Unseen, we float into the houses of men, where 
children are, and for every day that we find a good 
child who is the joy of his parents and deserves 
their love, God makes our time of probation shorter. 
The child does not know that we fly through the 
room, and that when we smile with joy at his good- 
ness, a year is taken from the three hundred ; but 
if we see a naughty or a wicked child, we shed 
tears of sorrow, and every tear adds a day to our 
time of trial.” 


THE WILD SWANS. 


Far av/ay, in the land to which the swallows fly 
in the winter, there lived a King, who had eleven 
sons, and one daughter, Elsa. Their father, who 
was King over the whole of the country, married 
a wicked Queen, who did not love the children. 
This they discovered on the very first day. There 
was a festival at the palace, and the children were 
playing at receiving company; but although they 
usually had all kinds of pastry and roasted apples, 
the Queen gave them only sand in a tea-cup, and 
told them to suppose that it was something nice. 

The next week she sent little Elsa away to live 
with a peasant and his wife ; then she told the King 
so many untrue things about the princes that he 
no longer cared anything about them. 

“Go out into the world and. look after your- 
selves,” said the wicked Queen. “Fly away like 
great birds that have no voice.” 

But she could not make them as ugly as she would 
have liked ; so they were transformed into eleven 
beautiful white swans. With a strange cry, they 
flew out of the window of the palace, far away over 
the park and the forest. 

When she was fifteen years old, Elsa returned 


THE WILD SWANS. 


151 


home. The Queen saw how beautiful her little 
step-daughter had become, and her heart was filled 
with envy and hatred. She would have liked to 
turn her into a wild swan, like her brothers; but 
she did not dare to do that, just then, because the 
King wished to see his daughter. 

Early in the morning the Queen went into her 
bath-room, which was built of marble, and prettily 
furnished with soft cushions and the most beautiful 
carpets. Then she took three toads, kissed them, 
and said to one of them — 

‘‘ When Elsa comes to the bath, seat yourself 
upon her head that she may become as stupid as 
you.’’ 

And to the second she said: “Seat yourself on 
her forehead, so that she may be as ugly as you, 
and her father may not know her.” 

To the third she whispered : “Lie on her heart, 
and give her an evil temper, that may bring mis- 
fortune upon her.” 

So she placed the toads in the clear water, which 
at once turned green, summoned Elsa, undressed 
her, and bade her enter the bath. As she dipped 
her head under the water, one of the toads seated 
itself on her head, another on her forehead, and the 
third on her bosom ; but Elsa did not seem to no- 
tice them ; and as soon as she rose out of the water, 
three red poppies were floating on the surface. If 
the toads had not been venomous, and kissed by the 
witch Queen, they would have been changed into 
red roses; but they became flowers all the same. 


152 - 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


for they had rested on her head and on her heart, 
and she was too pious and innocent to be hurt by 
the power of witchcraft. 

The wicked Queen, seeing this, washed the poor 
girl with walnut-juice, until she was quite brown, 
and tangled her beautiful hair until it was impos- 
sible to recognize the pretty Elsa. When her fa- 
ther saw her he was quite shocked, and declared 
she could not be his daughter. None but the watch- 
dogs knew her, and they could say nothing. 

Poor little Elsa wept and thought of her eleven 
brothers who were all far away. Full of sorrow, 
she stole away from the palace, and wandered 
the whole day long over the fields till she came 
to the great forest. She had not been here long 
when the night fell, and she lost the path. So 
she lay down on the soft moss, said her evening 
prayer, and leaned her head against the stump of 
a tree. 

When she awoke, the sun was high in the heav- 
ens, although she could not see it, owing to the 
dense foliage of the lofty trees; but the sunbeams 
played through the leaves like a glittering golden 
veil. The air was sweetly scented, and the birds 
almost perched themselves on Elsa’s shoulders. 

When she had dressed herself and plaited her 
long hair, she went to the rippling spring, drank 
out of the hollow of her hand, and went deeper into 
the wood, without knowing whither she was going. 
She thought of her brothers, and of the good God, 
who surely would not abandon her. He it was who 



154 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES, 


made the wild apple-tree, to give food to the hun- 
gry; He who led her to such a tree, its branches 
hanging heavy with fruit. 

Here she had her midday meal; she put props 
under the branches, and then continued her jour- 
ney, right into the darkest part of the wood. 

The night grew very dark; not a single little 
glow-worm sparkled from the moss. Sadly she 
laid herself down to sleep, and it seemed to her that 
the branches above were parted, and that the Christ 
Jesus with His mild eyes was looking down upon 
her, while little angels peeped through over His 
head and under His arms. 

When she awoke in the morning she did not 
know whether she had dreamed this, or whether it 
had really happened. She had only walked a few 
steps on her way, when she met an old woman with 
a basket full of berries, and she gave Elsa a few of 
these to eat. Elsa asked her whether she had seen 
eleven princes riding through the forest. 

‘‘No,” replied the old woman, “but yesterday I 
saw eleven swans, with golden crowns on their 
heads, swimming down the stream close by,” and 
she led Elsa a little farther away to a slope at the 
bottom of which a rivulet was flowing. 

Elsa bade the old woman farewell, and followed 
the banks until she came to the place where the 
stream flowed out into the open sea. 

On the seaweed that was thrown up by the waves 
lay eleven white swans’ feathers; these she gath- 
ered into a bunch. Drops of water were sprinkled 


THE WILD SWANS. 


155 


over them, but whether they were dew-drops or 
tears, no one could tell. 

Elsa did not feel so lonely by the shore, for there 
were constant changes in the sea. At sunset Elsa 
saw eleven white swans, with golden crowns on 
their heads, flying toward the land. They flew one 
behind the other, looking like a long white ribbon 
in the sky. Elsa crept up to the slope and hid be- 
hind a bush ; and the swans alighted close to her, 
flapping their great white wings. Then the sun 
sank into the water, and in a moment the plumage 
of the swans had fallen off and eleven handsome 
princes — Elsa’s brothers — stood before her! 

She uttered a loud cry, for, although they were 
much changed, she knew them^ — she felt that it 
must he they. So she ran into their arms, calling 
them by name; and they were all very happy when 
they saw and recognized their little sister, who was 
now a tall, beautiful girl. They laughed and cried ; 
and soon they understood how wicked their step- 
mother had been to them all. 

“We fly about,” said the eldest of the brothers, 
“in the shape of wild swans as long as the sun is in 
the sky; but as soon as it sets we recover our hu- 
man form. We are bound, however, to find a rest- 
ing-place before sunset, for at that moment if we 
were flying high up in the sky, we should fall as 
human beings down into the depths of the sea. 

“How shall I be able to save you ? ” asked their 
sister; they slept very little, but talked together 
nearly the whole of the night. 


156 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


‘‘ To-morrow we must fly away, and may not re- 
turn for a whole year, but we cannot leave you 
here alone. Have you courage to come with us? 
My arm is strong enough to carry you through the 
forest; why should not all our wings be strong 
enough to fly with you over the sea? ’’ 

“Yes; take me with you! ” said Elsa. 

They spent the night in making a couch with the 
bark of the pliant willow and with tough reeds. It 
was large and strong ; Elsa lay down upon it, and 
when the sun rose, and the brothers were trans- 
formed into wild swans, they took hold of the couch 
with their beaks, and flew high up into the sky with 
their dear little sister, who was still asleep. As the 
sunbeams shone on her face, one of the swans flew 
over her head to shade her with his broad wings. 

They were so high up that the first ship they saw 
beneath them looked like a white gull floating on 
the water. A great cloud rising behind them ap- 
peared like a lofty mountain, and upon it Elsa saw 
her own shadow and those of the eleven swans, 
looking gigantic in size as they flew past. Onward 
they flew, the whole day long, like an arrow whiz- 
zing through the air, but slower perhaps than 
usual, for now they had their sister to carry. 

The black clouds came nearer, and the freshen- 
ing breeze announced a storm. The clouds shot 
forward in a leaden, threatening mass, and the 
lightning burst forth, flash after flash. Now the 
sun was nearly on the horizon, and Elsa’s heart 
was trembling. Suddenly the swans darted for- 


TEE WILD SWANS. 


157 


ward so swiftly that she thought she would fall, 
but still they sailed onward. The sun was half 
way down in the water when at last she saw the 
little rock beneath her, but it seemed no larger than 
a seal with its head above the surface. 

So swiftly did the sun sink that before her feet 
touched the ground it seemed scarcely larger than 
a star, and then it was suddenly extinguished, like 
the last spark on a piece of burnt paper, but at 
dawn the air was pure and calm, and as soon as the 
sun rose the swans flew away with Elsa from the 
rock. 

It was an ever-changing scene that was spread 
before her eyes ; until at last she saw the country 
to which they were bound — beautiful blue moun- 
tains covered with cedar forests, villages, and pal- 
aces. Long before the sun went down she was sit- 
ting on a cliff before a huge cavern overgrown 
with trailing green creepers, like embroidered tap- 
estry. 

“Now we shall see what you will dream of to- 
night,” said the youngest of the brothers, as he 
showed her the beautiful apartment in which she 
was to sleep. 

“If I could dream how to save you!” she said, 
and this thought was so constantly in her mind, 
and so fervent was her prayer to God for help, 
that even in her slumber she continued to pray. 

It seemed to her that she flew high up in the air, 
and that a fairy came to meet her, beautiful and 
radiant, but very much like the old woman who 


158 


ANDEBSEN^S TALES. 


had given her the berries in the forest, and told 
her about the swans with the golden crowns. 

“Your brothers can be saved,” she said; “Do 
you see this stinging-nettle that I hold in my hand? 
Many nettles of this kind may be found around 
the cave in which you sleep; these only, and the 
kind that grow upon church-yard graves, are of any 
use — remember that ! These you must gather, al- 
though they will burn your hands with blisters. 
Crush them with your feet: they will become a 
kind of flax, and from this you must spin and knit 
eleven shirts with long sleeves; throw these over 
the eleven wild swans, and the spell will be broken. 
But remember that from the moment you un- 
dertake this task, until it is finished, you must not 
speak. The first word that you utter will go like a 
deadly dagger through your brothers’ hearts: upon 
your tongue hang their lives. Bemember all this ! ” 

When the sun set, the brothers arrived, and were 
sorely frightened to find her quite dumb. They 
thought it was a new spell cast upon her by the 
step-mother, but when they saw her hands, they 
understood what she was doing for their sake. The 
youngest brother wept, and where his tears fell she 
felt no pain, and the burning blisters vanished. 

The whole night through she worked, for she 
could not rest until she had saved her dear broth- 
ers. During the whole of the following day, while 
the swans were away, she sat in solitude, but never 
had the hours gone so quickly. One shirt was al- 
ready finished ; now she began the next. 


THE WILD SWANS. 


159 


Then she heard the sound of huntsmen’s horns 
among the mountains. She trembled with fear; 
the sound came nearer, and she heard the barking 
of the hounds. Then she fled in terror into the cave, 
gathered together the nettles which she had plucked, 
and sat down upon the bundle. 

Suddenly a great hound came bounding from a 
thicket, and soon afterward another, and yet an- 
other. They barked loudly, ran back, and came 
again. Before many minutes all the huntsmen 
stood outside the cave ; the handsomest among them 
was the King of the country. He advanced toward 
Elsa ; never before had he seen a more beautiful 
maiden. 

‘‘Come with me,” said he: “you must not stay 
here. If you are as good as you are beautiful, I 
will clothe you in silk and velvet, place a gold crown 
on your head, and you shall live in my most mag- 
nificent palace ! ” and he lifted her upon his horse. 

She wept and wrung her hands, but the King 
said: “My only wish is to make you happy; one 
day you will thank me for this.” And he rode 
away among the mountains, holding her in front 
of him on his horse, while the huntsmen followed. 

At sunset, they saw a magnificent city with 
churches and cupolas, and the King led Elsa into 
his palace, where great fountains were playing in 
the lofty marble halls, and where the walls and 
ceilings were covered with rich paintings. But she 
had eyes for none of this grandeur; she could only 
weep and mourn. Passively she allowed the women 


160 


ANDEBSEN^S TALES. 


to array her in costly robes, plait her hair with 
precious pearls, and cover her blistered fingers with 
dainty gloves. 

As she stood there in all her splendor, she was 
so dazzlingly beautiful that the whole Court bowed 
before her, and the King declared that he would 
make her his bride. But the Archbishop shook his 
head, and whispered that the beautiful maiden 
from the wood was surely a witch, who had blinded 
their eyes and ensnared the King’s heart. 

The King now opened a little chamber close by, 
where she was to sleep. It was hung with costly 
green tapestry and closely resembled the cave in 
which she had lived. On the floor lay the bundle 
of fibre which she had prepared from the nettles, 
and on the wall hung the shirt which was already 
finished. One of the huntsmen had thought these 
things very curious and brought them with him. 
“ Here you may dream that you are back in your 
former home,” said the King. “Here is the work 
with which you occupied yourself; now in the 
midst of all your splendor, it may please you to 
think of that time.” 

When Elsa saw these things that lay so near her 
heart, a smile played upon her lips, and the blood 
rushed to her cheeks; she thought of her brothers’ 
deliverance, and kissed the King’s hand. He pressed 
her to his heart, and commanded that all the church 
bells should announce the wedding festival. The 
beautiful dumb maiden of the wood was to be the 
Queen of the land ! 



i 


162 


ANDEBSEN^S TALES. 


Day by day she grew to love him more: oh! how 
she loDged to confide in him and tell him her grief; 
but no : she must remain dumb — in silence she must 
fulfil her task. 

At night, therefore, she crept away from him and 
went into the little chamber that had been arranged 
like the cave, and here she wove one shirt after an- 
other. But when she began on the seventh, she 
had no more flax left. She knew that the nettles 
which she could use were growing in the church- 
yard, but she had to gather them herself, and how 
was she to get there? “ Alas, what is the pain in 
my Angers compared with the anguish of my 
heart? ” she thought. “I must make the attempt; 
surely Heaven will not deny me help.” 

With a trembling heart, as if she were about to 
commit an evil act, she stole down, one moonlight 
night, into the garden, and passed through the 
long avenues and lonely streets to the church-yard. 

One person only had seen her, the Archbishop, 
for he watched while others slept. Now he felt 
sure that he was right in his distrust of the Queen : 
she was a witch, and had enchanted the King, to- 
gether with the whole of the people. 

He told the King what he had seen and what he 
feared, and as the words fell from his lips, the carven 
images of the Saints shook their heads as if they 
wished to say, “It is not so: Elsa is innocent.” 

Two great tears rolled down the King’s cheeks, 
and he went home with doubt in his heart. At 
night he pretended to sleep, but sleep was far from 


THE WILD SWANS. 


163 


his eyes, and he noticed how Elsa rose from her 
bed. Every night this was repeated, and on each 
occasion he followed her softly, and saw her disap- 
pear into the little room. 

Once more, for the last time, she had to go down 
to the church-yard, but the King and the Archbishop 
followed her. They saw her disappear through the 
wicket-gate of the church-yard, and when they came 
nearer they caught sight of the hideous creatures 
sitting on the tombstones, just as Elsa had seen 
them; and the King turned away, for he thought 
that she, too, was one of them — she whose head 
had that very evening rested on his breast. “Let 
the people judge her!” he said; and the people 
condemned her to be burnt at the stake. 

The people were streaming out through the gates 
of the town to see the witch burned. A wretched 
horse drew the cart on which she sat: they had 
dressed her in a garment of coarse sackcloth, and 
her lovely, long hair hung loose around her pretty 
head. Her cheeks were deadly pale, and her lips 
moved silently, while her fingers were weaving the 
green fibres, for even on her way to death she would 
not give up her work. 

Ten shirts lay at her feet, the eleventh she was 
still knitting. The mob jeered at her. “Look at 
the witch, how she mutters! She has no hymn- 
book in her hands; no — there she sits with her 
hateful witchery. Tear it from her ! tear it into a 
thousand pieces ! ” 

And they surged around her; and tried to tear 


164 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


the shirts into fragments; but eleven white swans 
came flying into their midst, settled upon the cart, 
and flapped with their great wings, so that the mob 
gave way in terror. 

‘‘ That is a sign from Heaven — she is surely inno- 
cent,’’ whispered many. 

Then the executioner seized her by the hand — in- 
stantly she threw the eleven shirts over the swans, 
and there stood eleven handsome princes : but the 
youngest had a swan’s wing instead of an arm, for 
she had not quite flnished his shirt. 

“Now I may speak,” she said; “I am innocent! ” 

And the people, who saw what had happened, 
bowed before her as before a saint ; but she sank 
lifeless into her brothers’ arms, for the suspense, 
anguish, and grief had overcome her. “ Yes, in- 
nocent she is,” said the eldest brother, and then he 
told the whole story. 

While he spoke, the air was filled with fragrance 
as from a million roses, for every piece of wood in 
the pile had taken root and sent forth branches. 
There stood a fragrant hedge, tall and dense, cov- 
ered with red roses: and at the top was a single 
rose, dazzlingly white, and shining like a star: 
this the King plucked and placed on Elsa’s bosom, 
and she awoke, with happiness in her heart. 

And all the church bells began to ring of their 
own accord, and the birds came in great flocks, and 
a wedding procession returned to the palace such as 
no King had ever seen before. 


THE SNOW QUEEN. 

A Fairy Tale in Seven Stories. 


FIKST STOKY. 

TREATS OF THE MIRROR AND ITS FRAGMENTS. 

Now let US begin. When we have got to the 
end of our story, we shall know more than we know 
now, for it was a wicked Goblin, it was one of the 
very worst — in fact, it was the Evil One himself ! 

One day he was in a really good humor, for he 
made a mirror, which had the quality of causing 
everything good and beautiful that was reflected in 
it to shrink almost to nothing, whereas anything 
that was worthless and ugly became magnifled and 
looked worse than ever. The loveliest landscapes 
appeared in this mirror like boiled spinach, and the 
handsomest people looked hideous, stood on their 
heads, and had no bodies. Their faces became dis- 
torted, so that it was impossible to recognize them, 
and if they had a freckle, it would be sure to spread 
out over their nose and mouth. 

Now, when a good and pious thought passed 
through the mind of any one, it was shown in the 


166 


ANDERSEN TALES. 


mirror as a grin, and the Goblin would laugh at his 
clever invention. All those who attended his school 
— for he kept a goblin school — talked about it, and 
declared that a miracle had happened. 

For the first time, they said, one could see what 
the world and mankind really looked like. They 
carried the mirror far and wide, until at last there 
was not a country nor a person that had not been 
distorted in it. Then they wished to fly up to 
Heaven also, so as to make fun of the angels. 

The higher they flew with the mirror, the more 
it grinned, so that they could hardly keep hold of 
it. Higher and higher they flew, nearer and nearer 
to Heaven; but suddenly the mirror trembled so 
violently with grinning that it flew out of their 
hands and dropped down to the earth, where it 
broke into a hundred million billion pieces and many 
more. Then it caused much more mischief than 
before, for some of the pieces were hardly as large 
as a grain of sand, and these flew around in the 
wide world, and when they got into the eyes of the 
people, there they remained. These people then 
saw everything reversed, or had only eyes for the 
wrong side of things, for every particle retained 
the same qualities as had previously been possessed 
by the entire mirror. 

Some people got a little fragment of the mirror 
into their hearts. This was very terrible indeed, 
for their hearts then became like a lump of ice. 

The Goblin laughed until his sides ached, so 
greatly was he tickled with all this mischief. 


TEE SNOW QUEEN 


167 


But in the air some small fragments of glass were 
floating about. Now we shall hear about them. 


SECOND STOKY. 

A LITTLE BOY AND A LITTLE GIRL. 

In a large town, where there are so man}^ houses 
and people that there is not room enough for every- 
body to have a little garden, and where for this 
reason most people must be satisfied with plants in 
flower-pots, lived two poor children who had a gar- 
den just a little larger than a flower-pot. They were 
not brother and sister, but they loved one another as 
much as if they had been. Their parents lived op- 
posite each other, high up in two garrets. Where 
the roof of one house joined the roof of the other, 
a little gable projected from each of the houses. 
You only had to step over the gutter to get from 
one window to the other. 

His name was Kay, and her name was Gerda. In 
the summer-time they could get out to each other in 
one jump; but in the winter they had to run down- 
stairs, and then up quite a number of steps. Out- 
side, the snow was whirling about. 

“It is the white bees that are swarming, ” said 
the old Grandmother. 

“Can the Snow Queen come in here?” asked the 
little girl. 

“ Well, let her come,” said the little boy; “I will 


168 


ANDERSEN^S TALES, 


put her on the warm stove, and then she will melt.” 
But the Grandmother stroked his hair, and told 
them other stories. 

In the evening, when little Kay was at home and 
half undressed, he crept up on to one of the chairs 
by the window, and looked out through the little 
hole. A couple of snow-flakes were falling outside, 
and one of them remained lying on the edge of one 
of the flower-boxes. The snow-flake grew larger 
and larger, until at last it became a little lady 
dressed in the finest white gauze, that seemed to 
consist of millions of star-like crystals. She was 
very beautiful and delicate, but of ice — of dazzling, 
glittering ice. And yet she was alive. Her eyes 
twinkled like two shining stars, but there was no 
peace or rest in them. She nodded toward the win- 
dow and beckoned with her hand. The little boy 
grew frightened, and jumped down from the chair; 
and then it seemed that a great bird flew past out- 
side the window. The next day there was a clear 
frost, and then it thawed. 

The spring came, the sun shone, the green buds 
peeped forth, the swallows built their nests, the 
windows were opened, and the little children again 
sat in their own little garden in the gutter, on the 
roof, high up above all the other stories. 

What beautiful summer days they were ! How 
delightful it was to be out there by the fresh rose- 
trees, which seemed as if they would bloom for- 
ever ! Kay and Gerda sat and looked in the pic- 
ture-book of animals and birds. Then it was — the 



170 


ANDEBSEN^S TALES, 


clock in the big church tower was just striking five 
— that little Kay said — 

“ Oh ! something struck me in my heart, and now 
I have something in my eye.’’ The little girl fiung 
her arms round his neck ; he blinked his eyes ; but 
no, there was nothing to be seen. ‘‘ I think it has 
gone,” he said, but it was not gone: it was just 
one of those little glass particles that sprang from 
the mirror, the magic mirror. 

“What are you crying for?” he asked; “it 
makes you look ugly. Oh, fie ! ” he exclaimed all 
at once, “ this rose is worm-eaten, and look, that one 
is crooked ! They are really very ugly roses, just 
like the box they grow in.” So he gave the box a 
hard kick with his foot, and tore the two roses off. 

“Kay, what are you doing? ” cried the little girl. 

But when he saw how frightened she was he tore 
off yet another rose, and ran in through his window 
away from pretty little Gerda. 

One winter’s day, Kay came in wearing thick 
gloves, and with his sleigh on his back. He called 
out to Gerda; “I have permission to go sleighing 
in the big square where the other boys play,” and 
off he went. 

Just as they were playing, a large sleigh came 
by. It was painted white, and inside sat somebody 
wrapped in white fur, and wearing a rough white 
hood. The sleigh drove twice round the square; 
Kay quickly tied to it his own little sleigh, and was 
carried away behind it. 

They drove out of the town, and then the snow 


THE SHOW QUEEH. 


171 


began to fall, so thickly that the little boy could 
hardly see a yard before him as they swept along. 

The snow-flakes became larger; until at last they 
looked like great white fowls. All at once they 
flew aside, the big sleigh stopped, and the person 
who was driving it rose up; fur and cap were of 
pure snow. It was a lady, tall, and slender, and 
dazzling white — it w’as the Snow Queen ! 

“We have driven well,” she said, “but why do 
you shiver like that? Creep into my bear-skin fur.” 
She seated him in the sleigh beside her, wrapped 
the fur around him ; and it seemed as if he had 
sunk down into a snow-drift. “Are you still shiver- 
ing? ” she asked, and kissed him on the brow. 

“Now you must have no more kisses,” said the 
Snow Queen, “or I might kiss you to death.” They 
flew over forests and lakes, over land and sea. Be- 
neath them the cold wind 'was whistling, the wolves 
were howling, and over the glistening snow flew 
black, screaming crows. But beyond, the moon 
shone large and bright in the sky, and Kay gazed 
at it through the long, long winter night. In the 
daytime he slept at the feet of the Snow Queen. 


TRIED STOEY. 

THE FLOWER-GARDEN OF THE WITCH WOMAN. 

But how did little Gerda get on when Kay did 
not return? What had become of him? Nobody 


172 


ANDERSEN'S TALES. 


knew where he was; many tears were shed, and 
little Gerda wept long and bitterly. 

Then came the spring, with warmer sunshine. 

“ Kay is dead and gone ! ” said little Gerda. 

‘‘ I do not believe that ! ” said the sunshine. 

“He is dead and gone!” she said to the swal- 
lows. “ We do not believe it 1 ” they replied. And 
at last little Gerda herself did not believe it. 

“I will put on my new red shoes,” she said “the 
shoes that Kay has never seen, and then I will go 
down and beg the river to give him back. 

“ Is it true that you have taken my little play- 
mate?” she said. “I will give you my red shoes 
if you will give him back to me.” 

She thought that the waves nodded to her 
strangely. Then she took her red shoes, the dear- 
est of all her possessions, and threw them both into 
the river; but they fell close to the shore, and the 
little waves carried them back to her. 

So she crept into a boat that lay among the reeds, 
went to the farther end, and threw the shoes 
out. But the boat was not fastened to the shore, 
and it glided away from the land. 

Little Gerda was now very much afraid, and be- 
gan to cry ; but no one heard her except the spar- 
rows, and they could not carry her to land; so 
they flew along the bank, and twittered as if to 
comfort her: “Here we are! here we are! ” 

The boat drifted with the stream, and little 
Gerda sat quite still, with only her stockings on 
her feet. Her little red shoes were floating on the 


THE SNOW QUEEN 173 

water, but they could not overtake her, for the boat 
was leaving them farther and farther behind. 

“Perhaps the river will carry me to little Kay,” 
thought Gerda. And so she grew more cheerful, 
sat up in the boat, and hour after hour watched 
the beautiful green banks. Then she came to a 
cherry orchard, in which stood a little house with 
quaint red-and-blue windows, and a thatched roof. 

Outside stood two wooden soldiers, who presented 
arms to those who sailed past. Gerda called out to 

them, for she thought they were alive, but of course 
they gave no answer. 

Then she called still louder, and an old woman 
came out of the house leaning on a crutch. 

And the old woman went straight down into the 
water, seized the boat with her crutch, drew it 
ashore, and lifted little Gerda out. 

“ Come and tell me who you are, and how you 
came here,” said the old lady. And Gerda told her 
everything; and the old woman shook her head and 
said, “H’m, h’m.” When Gerda had told the 
whole story, and asked whether she had seen little 
Kay, the woman replied that he had not come 
yet, but that he would very probably pass that way. 

“I have long wished for a dear little girl like 
you,” said the old woman. “How nicely we two 
will get on together ! ” So she went into the garden 
and pointed with her crutch at all the rose-trees ; 

then, beautiful and blooming as they were, they 
sank immediately into the dark earth, and no one 
could tell where they had stood. 


174 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


The old woman was afraid that when Gerda saw 
the roses, they would remind her of home, and that 
she would remember little Kay and run away. 

Now she took Gerda out into the flower-garden. 
Oh! how fragrant and lovely it was! Every flower 
belonging to every season was there in full bloom ; 
no picture-book could be richer in color or more 
beautiful. Gerda played till the sun went down 
behind the tall cherry-trees; then she was tucked 
into a lovely bed with red silk pillows stuffed with 
blue violets; and as she slept she dreamed as hap- 
pily as any queen on her wedding-day. 

When the morning came she was again allowed 
to play with the flowers in the warm sunshine — and 
thus many days went by. Gerda knew every flower ; 
but although there were many of them, it seemed 
to her that one was missing. 

‘‘ Why ! ” said Gerda, “ there are no roses here ! ” 

And she ran in and out among the flower-beds, 
and searched, but there was not a rose to be found. 

Then she sat down and wept, and her warm tears 
fell just upon the spot where a rose-tree lay buried. 
When her tears moistened the earth, the tree at 
once sprouted up as full of blossom as when it 
had sunk beneath the ground. Gerda embraced it, 
kissed the roses, and thought of the beautiful roses 
at home, and of little Kay. 

“ Oh, how I have wasted my time ! ” said the lit- 
tle girl. “I came to find Kay! Do you know 
where he is?” she asked the roses. “Do you be- 
lieve he is dead and gone? ” 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


175 


“He is not dead,” said the roses; “we have been 
in the ground, where all dead people are, but Kay 
was not there.” 

“Oh, dear,” she said, “how I have wasted my 
time! It is now autumn, and I must not rest,” 
and she rose up to go. Oh ! how gray and gloomy 
it seemed out in the wide world! 


FOUETH STOEY. 

THE PRINCE AND THE PRINCESS. 

Gerda had to rest again. Suddenly a big Crow 
came hopping across the snow, just opposite to 
where she sat. He had been sitting a long while 
looking at her, turning his head to and fro; but 
now he said, “ Caw ! caw ! Good day ! good day ! ” 
He could not speak more plainly, but he meant to 
be kind to the little girl, and asked where she was 
going all alone out in the wide world. 

The word “ alone ” Gerda understood very well: 
she quite felt the meaning of it ; so she told the 
Crow the whole story of her life and adventures, 
and asked if he had seen Kay. 

The Crow nodded very gravely, and said — 

“That may be! that may be!” 

“What! do you think so?” cried the little girl, 
and she nearly squeezed the Crow to death, so 
heartily did she kiss him. 

“Gently, gently!” said the Crow. “I believe it 


176 


ANDERSEN^S TALES, 


may be little Kay, but by this time he must have 
forgotten you for the Princess.” 

‘‘Does he live with a Princess?” asked Gerda. 

“Tes; listen,” said the Crow. “But it is very 
difficult for me to speak your language.” 

And so the crow told what he knew. 

“But Kay, little Kay?” asked Gerda. 

“Wait a minute. We’re just coming to him. 
One day there came a little fellow, without horse 
or carriage, marching quite pluckily up to the 
castle. His eyes sparkled like yours, he had beauti- 
ful hair, but his clothes were very poor.” 

“ That was Kay ! ” cried Gerda, in great delight. 

“He had a knapsack on his back,” said the Crow. 

“ No, that must have been his sleigh,” said Gerda, 
“for he went away with a sleigh.” 

“That may be,” said the Crow; “I did not take 
much notice. When he passed through the palace 
gate and saw the Life Guards in silver, and mounted 
the staircase and saw the lackeys in gold, he was 
not in the least confused. He said: ‘It must be 
tiresome to stand on the stairs — I’d rather go in.’ ” 

“Well, of course it was Kay!” said Gerda. 
Oh! will you not lead me to the castle, too? ” 

“That is easily said,” replied the Crow. “But 
how are we to manage it? — a little girl like you will 
never get permission to go right in.” 

“Yes, I shall,” said Gerda. “ When Kay hears 
that I am here he will bring me in.” 

“ Wait for me yonder at the grating,” said the 
Crow, and he wagged his head and flew away. 










178 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES, 


It was not until late in the evening, when it had 
grown dark, that the Crow returned. 

“ Caw ! caw ! ” he said. “ It is impossible for you 
to get into the palace, for you are barefoot, and 
the Guards would never allow it. But don’t cry; 
you shall go up all the same.” 

When the lights were put out in the palace one 
by one, the Crow led Gerda to a back door. 

Now they were on the staircase. A little lamp 
was burning in an alcove, and in tho middle of the 
floor stood a tame Crow, turning her head from 
side to side and looking at Gerda, who bowed as 
Grandmother had taught her. 

‘‘It seems to me as if some one were coming just 
behind us,” said Gerda, as something rushed b}^ 
her; it seemed liko shadows along the wall: horses 
with flying manes and slender legs, huntsmen and 
ladies and gentlemen on horseback. 

“They are only the Dreams,” said the Crow; 
“they come to take their Highnesses’ thoughts out 
hunting.” 

They came into the first hall. Here the Dreams 
again came flitting by, and they moved so quickly 
that Gerda could not see the great folk. Now at 
last they were in the bed-chamber. She drew one 
of the curtains aside, and then she saw a little 
brown neck — oh ! that must be Kay ! She called 
his name aloud, and held the lamp toward him ; he 
awoke, turned his head, and — it was not little Kay ! 

The Prince was only like him in the neck ; but 
nevertheless he was young and handsome, the 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


179 


Prince got up out of his bed, and let Gerda sleep 
in it ; and more than that he could not do. She 
folded her little hands, and thought: ‘‘How good 
men and animals are!” And then she closed her 
eyes and fell quietly to sleep. 

The next day she was dressed from head to foot 
in silk and velvet ; and they invited her to stay in 
the castle and enjoy herself. But she only begged 
for a little carriage with a horse, and a little pair 
of boots ; then she would drive out again into the 
wide world to find Kay. 

The Prince and Princess in person helped her into 
the carriage, and wished her all good fortune. 

“Farewell! farewell!” cried the Prince and 
Princess, and little Gerda wept, and the Crow 
wept. So they went on for the first three miles; 
then the Crow also said good-by, and this was the 
most sorrowful parting of all. 


FIFTH STOKY. 

THE LITTLE ROBBER-GIRL. 

They drove on through the dark forest, but the 
coach gleamed like a torch, dazzling the robbers’ 
eyes, and they could not resist the temptation. 

“That is gold! that is gold!” they cried, rushed 
forward, and seized the horses, killed the little out- 
riders, coachman, and footmen, and then pulled 
little Gerda out of the carriage. 


180 


ANDERSEN'S TALES. 


“ She is fat— she is pretty — she is fed with nut- 
kernels ! ” said the old robber-woman, who had a 
long beard, and eyebrows that hung down over her 
eyes. “She is as good as a little pet lamb; how 
nice she will taste.’’ Saying this, she drew forth a 
shining knife, that gleamed horribly. 

“ Oh ! ” screamed the old woman at the same mo- 
ment, for she was bitten in the ear by her own little 
daughter, whom she carried on her back, and who 
was wild and naughty. “You ugly thing!” said 
the mother; and she had not time to kill Gerda. 

“I want to get into the carriage,” said the little 
robber-girl, and she would have her own way, for 
she was terribly spoiled, and very obstinate. 

Now the carriage stopped; they were in the mid- 
dle of the court-yard in the robbers’ castle. In the 
great old smoky hall a bright fire was burning in 
the middle of the stone floor. 

“You shall sleep here to-night with me and with 
all my little animals,” said the robber-girl. 

They ate and drank, and then went to a corner 
where straw and carpets were spread out. Above, 
on laths and perches, nearly a hundred pigeons 
were sitting; they all seemed asleep, but they 
turned a little when the two little girls approached. 

“They are all mine,” said the little robber-girl. 
“There sit the wood-pigeons, and here’s my old 
sweetheart ‘ Ba ’ ; ” and she pulled a Eeindeer out 
by the horn. 

And the little girl drew a long knife from a cleft 
in the wall, and let it glide over the Eeindeer’s 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


181 


neck. The poor creature kicked out with its legs, 
and the little robber-girl laughed, and drew Gerda 
into bed with her. 

“Do you keep the knife while you are asleep?” 
asked Gerda, looking at it with alarm. 

“I always sleep with a knife,” replied the robber- 
girl. “One never knows what may happen. But 
now tell me again about little Kay, and why you 
came out into the wide world.” 

And Gerda told it again from the beginning; and 
the wood-pigeons cooed up in their cage, and said : 
“Coo! coo! we have seen little Kay. A white 
hen was carrying his sleigh ; he sat in the Snow 
Queen’s carriage, which rushed away high above 
the forest, when we were lying in our nest. She 
blew upon us little ones, and all died except us 
two. Coo ! coo ! ” 

“ What are you saying up there? ” cried Gerda. 
“Which way was the Snow Queen travelling? Do 
you know anything about it? ” 

“She was probably going to Lapland, for there 
they always have ice and snow.” 

In the morning Gerda told her all that the wood- 
pigeons had said, and the robber-girl looked quite 
grave, but nodded her head and said: “It’s all the 
same; it’s all the same! Do you know where Lap- 
land is? ” she asked the Eeindeer. 

“ Who should know better than I?” the animal 
replied. “I was born and bred there; I ran about 
there in the snow-fields,” and its eyes sparkled. 

The robber-girl went to the Reindeer and said — 


182 


ANDERSEN^S TALES. 


‘‘Never mind, I will loosen your rope, and help you 
out, so that you may run to Lapland : but you must 
make good use of your legs, and carry this little 
girl for me to the palace of the Snow Queen.” 

The Eeindeer' sprang up with joy. The robber- 
girl lifted Gerda on to its back, and took care to tie 
her fast, and even gave her a little cushion to sit on. 

And Gerda wept for joy. 

“I can’t bear to see you weep,” said the little 
robber-girl, “Now you must look happy. And 
here are two loaves and a ham for you, so that you 
may not be hungry.” These were tied on the Eein- 
deer’s back. The little robber-girl opened the door, 
and said to the Eeindeer: “Now run! but take 
care of the little girl ! ” 

And the Eeindeer ran over stock and stone, away 
through the great forest, over marshes and steppes. 
“Hiss! hiss!” it said in the sky. It seemed as if 
it were sneezing red flames. 

“Those are my old Northern Lights,” said the 
Eeindeer. “See how they glow.” And then it ran 
on faster than ever, day and night. 

SIXTH STOEY. 

THE LAPLAND WOMAN AND THE FINLAND WOMAN. 

They stopped at a little hut. Nobody was at 
home but an old Lapland woman, frying fish by 
the light of a train-oil lamp; and the Eeindeer told 
Gerda ’s whole history. 


THE SNOW QUEEN 


183 


“ Oh ! you poor things,’’ said the Lapland woman ; 
‘‘you have a long run yet! You must go more 
than a hundred miles into Finland, for the Snow 
Queen is staying there in the country, burning Ben- 
gal lights every evening. I will write a few words 
on a dry cod, for I have no paper, and I will give 
you that to take to the Finland woman; she can 
give you better information than I.” 

When Gerda had warmed herself and had some- 
thing to eat and drink the Lapland woman wrote 
a feAV words on a dry codfish, told Gerda to take 
care of it, and tied her on the Eeindeer, which then 
ran on again. And so they got to Finland, and 
knocked at the chimney of the Finland woman, for 
she had not even a door. 

Then the Eeindeer told his own story, and after- 
ward little Gerda’s; and the Finland woman blinked 
vrifch her clever eyes; but said nothing. “ You are 
so learned, ” said the Eeindeer; “I know you can 
tie all the winds of the world together with a bit of 
sewing-thread : if the sailor unties one knot, he has 
a good wind ; if he loosens the second, it blows 
hard; but if he unties the third and the fourth, 
then comes a storm fierce enough to uproot the 
trees in the forest. Can you not give the little girl 
a draught, so that she may have the power of twelve 
men, and overcome the Snow Queen?” 

“I can give her no greater power than she has 
already. Don’t you see how great that is? — don’t 
you see how men and animals are obliged to serve 
her, and how well she got on in the world even 


184 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES, 


with bare feet? She must not learn to know her 
power through us ; it is in her heart, and consists 
in this — that she is a sweet, innocent child. If she 
cannot, by herself, gain access to the Snow Queen 
and remove the glass fragments from little Kay, we 
cannot help her.” 

And then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda 
on to the Eeindeer, which ran as fast as it could. 

“ Oh, I haven’t my boots, and I haven’t my mit- 
tens!” cried little Gerda. She felt the want of 
them in the cutting cold : but the Eeindeer dared 
not stop. It ran on until it came to the great bush 
with the red berries; here it put Gerda down, kissed 
her mouth, and great tears rolled down over the 
animal’s cheeks. Then it ran back as fast as it could. 

But now we must see how Kay was getting on. 
He was not thinking of little Gerda, and least of 
all, that she was standing outside the palace. 


SEVENTH STOEY. 

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SNOW QUEEN’S PALACE, 
AND AFTERWARD. 

The walls of the palace were formed of the drift- 
ing snow, and the windows and doors of the cutting 
winds. There were more than a hundred haUs, and 
in the middle of one was a frozen lake, and in the 
centre of the lake, sat the Snow Queen. 

Little Kay was quite blue with cold — indeed, al- 



186 


ANDEESEN'S TALES, 


most black ; but he did not notice it, for the Snow 
Queen had kissed the cold shudderings away from 
him, and his heart was like a lump of ice. 

‘‘Now I must haste away to warmer lands,” said 
the Snow Queenl And so she flew away, and Kay 
sat quite alone in the great icy hall, and looked at 
the pieces of ice, and thought, and thought. 

At this moment little Gerda stepped through the 
great gate into the palace. Cutting winds were 
raging within, but she said her evening prayer, and 
the winds were lulled to rest. Then she entered 
the vast halls that were so cold and empty. She 
beheld Kay, knew him at onco, threw her arms 
around his neck, and, holding him fast, called 
out : “ Dear little Kay ! at last I have found you ! ” 

But he sat quite motionless, stiff and cold. Then 
little Gerda wept hot tears; they fell upon his 
breast ; they penetrated into his heart, and thawed 
the lump of ice, melting even the little piece of 
glass within it. 

He looked at her, and she sang the hymn ! — 

“ Koses grow in tlie shady vale, 

And tell of the Christ-Child a beautiful tale.” 

Then Kay burst into tears; and he wept so much 
that the splinter of glass came out of his eye. He 
recognized her, and cried in delight : “ Gerda ! dear 
Gerda! where have you been all this time? And 
where have I been?” And he looked all around 
him. “ How cold it is here 1 how large and empty 1 ” 


187 


THE SNOW QUEEN. 

And Gerda kissed his cheeks, and they grew rosy 
again ; she kissed his eyes, and they shone like her 
own ; she kissed his hands and feet, and he became 
healthy and cheerful. They talked of Grand- 
mother, and the roses on the roof ; and wherever 
they went the winds lay down and the sun hurst 
forth. When they reached the bush with the red 
berries, the Eeindeer was standing there waiting ; 
it had brought another Eeindeer, whose udders 
were full, and who gave the little ones its warm 
milk, and kissed them. Then they carried Kay and 
_ Gerda, first to the Finland woman, and then to the 
Lapland woman, who had made them new clothes 
and put her sleigh in order. 

The Eeindeer and his companion ran by their 
side, and followed them as far as the boundary of 
the country. Here, where the first green leaves 
were sprouting, Kay and Gerda took leave of the 
Eeindeer and the Lapland woman. “Farewell!” 
they said. The first little birds of spring began to 
twitter, and the forest trees were in bud. Suddenly 
a young girl came riding out of the wood on a splen- 
did horse which Gerda knew (for it was the one 
that had drawn her golden ccn h). This was the 
little robber-girl. She knew Gerda at once, and 
Gerda knew her too; it was a joyful meeting. 
And Gerda patted her on the cheek, and asked 
after the Prince and Princess. 

“They have gone to foreign countries,” said the 
robber-girl. 

“But the Crow?” said Gerda. 


188 


ANDEBSEN^S TALES, 


“Why, the Crow is dead,” she replied. “But 
now tell me how you got hold of him.” 

And Gerda and Kay both told their story. 

But Gerda and Kay went hand in hand, and as 
they wandered on, the flowers of spring burst forth, 
and all the world was clad in green. The church 
bells pealed, and they recognized the high steeples 
and the great town ; it was the one in which they 
lived. They went to the Grandmother’s door, up 
the stairs, and into the room, where everything re- 
mained in its usual place. The grandfather’s clock 
said, “Tick! tack!” and the hands were moving; 
but as Kay and Gerda passed through the door they 
noticed that they were now grown up. 

And Kay and Gerda looked into each other’s 
eyes, and all at once they understood the old 
hymn : — 

Eoses grow in the shady vale, 

And tell of the Christ-Child a beautiful tale.’’ 

There they both sat, grown up, and yet children 
— children in heart — and it was summer, warm, 
beautiful summer. 


THE ANGEL. 


“ Whenever a good child dies, an Angel of God 
comes down to earth, takes the dead child in his 
arms, and, spreading out his large white wings, flies 
with him over all the places that were dear to him. 
And the Angel gathers a handful of flowers, and 
takes them to the good God, that they may bloom 
yet more beautifully in Heaven than they did upon 
earth. And the flower which most pleases its Crea- 
tor receives a voice, and supremely happy, joins in 
the chorus of the blessed angels.” 

Thus spoke an Angel of God while carrying a 
dead child to Heaven, and the child listened as 
though in a dream, and together they flew over all 
those places where the child had formerly played, 
and they passed over gardens full of lovely flowers. 

‘‘ Which flower shall we take with us and plant 
in Heaven?” asked the Angel. 

And there stood a fair delicate rose-tree, but an 
evil hand had broken the stem, so that all the 
branches, with their large, half-opened buds, hung 
faded down to the ground. ‘^Poor tree! ” said the 
child, ‘‘let us take it, that it may bloom again with 
the good God in Heaven.” And the Angel took it, 
and kissed the child, and the little one half -opened 
his eyes. They plucked many a splendid garden 


190 


ANDERSEN^ S TALES. 


flower, but they also took ,the meek little daisy 
and the wild hearts-ease. “ Now we have flowers 
enough ! ” said the child, and the Angel seemed to 
assent, but he did not yet fly up to Heaven. 

It was night ; it was very still ; they stayed near 
a town; they hovered over one of its narrowest 
streets, where straw, ashes, and rubbish of all kinds 
were scattered ; there had been a removal that day, 
and lying on the ground were nothing but things 
unseemly. 

Amid this confusion the Angel pointed to the 
broken pieces of an old flower-pot, and a lump of 
earth fallen out of it ; they were only held together 
by the roots of a large, faded field-flower, which was 
no longer worth looking at, and had been thrown 
out into the street. “We will take this flower with 
us/’ said the Angel. “I will tell thee about it as 
we are flying.” 

And they flew away, and the Angel spake as fol- 
lows; “There once lived in a low cellar, down in 
that little narrow street, a poor, sick boy. He had 
been confined to his bed from his earliest years; 
perhaps, now and then, he was able to take a Tew 
turns up and down his little room on his crutches, 
but that was all he could do. Sometimes, during 
the summer, the sunbeams would stream through 
his little cellar-window, and then, if the child sat 
up and felt the warm sun shining upon him, and 
could see the crimson blood in his slight, wasted, 
transparent fingers, as he held them up to the 
light, he would say, ‘To-day I have been out I’ 


THE ANGEL. 


191 


He only knew the pleasant woods and their bright 
vernal green by the neighbor’s son bringing him 
the first fresh boughs of the beech-tree, which he 
would hold over his head, and then fancy he was 
under the shade of the beech-trees, with the birds 
warbling, and the sun shining around him. 

‘‘ One day in spring the neighbor’s son brought 
him some field-flowers, and among them was one 
with a root, so it was put into a flower-pot and 
placed at the window, close by the bed, and, being 
carefully planted, it flourished, and put forth fresh 
shoots, and bore flowers every year. It was like a 
beautiful garden to the poor boy, his little treasure 
upon earth; he watered it, and tended it, taking 
care that every sunbeam, from the first to the last, 
which penetrated his little low window, should fall 
upon the plant. And its flowers, with their soft 
colors and fragrance, mingled with his dreams, and 
toward them he turned when he was dying, when 
Our Lord called him to Himself. The child has 
now been a year with the blessed^ — for a year the 
plant has stood by the window, faded and forgot- 
ten, and to-day it was thrown out among the rub- 
bish into the street. And this is the flower which 
we have just now taken, for this poor, faded field - 
flower has given more pleasure than the most 
splendid blossoms in the garden of a queen.” 

‘‘But how do you know all this?” asked the 
child, whom the Angel was bearing to Heaven. 
“How do I know it?” said the Angel, “I was my- 
self that little sick boy who went upon crutches. 


192 


ANDERSEN'S TALES. 


Ought I not to know my own flower? And the 
child opened wide its eyes, and looked into the 
Angel’s fair, bright countenance — and in the same 
moment they were in Heaven. 

And the dead child received wings like the Angel’s 
and flew with him hand in hand ; and a voice was 
given to the poor, faded, field-flower and it sang 
with the Angels surrounding the great God, some 
very near Him, and others forming large circles 
farther and farther away, extending into Infinity, 
but all equally blessed. 

And they all sang together, the Angels, the good 
child, and the poor, faded field flower which had lain 
among the rubbish of that dark and narrow street. 







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